


the angel and the bartender

by artemis_west



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bartenders, Fallen Angels, Falling In Love, Fluff and Smut, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Modern Era, One Shot, Porn With Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-18 13:10:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17581472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artemis_west/pseuds/artemis_west
Summary: The angel Ancel is cast out from Heaven and falls to Earth. He lands outside Damen's Bar and Pub, where he meets a very reluctant bartender named Berenger.Unexpected feelings ensue, and Ancel has to decide whether the truth is worth it.





	the angel and the bartender

**Author's Note:**

> MY VERY FIRST CAPRI FIC AND ITS NOT EVEN DAMEN/LAURENT CENTRIC
> 
> what inspired this fic you ask? autocorrect!! i was trying to type ancel and berenger in discord one day and it autocorrected to angel and bartender. thus, this idea was born. again it's one of those things where i typed up as ramblings in discord and then decided to convert into a full fledged fic so it was mostly written for the smut, but i built up all this exposition and plot around it and i ended up really liking it. i hope you guys do too!
> 
> full disclosure, i gave berenger a modern name and made berenger his last name because when i started writing it, it did not occur to me that berenger was actually his first name lmao and by then i was too many pages into it and didn't feel like changing it
> 
> also i'm too lazy to split it up into chapters so it's a long one-shot!! enjoy
> 
> (i also tagged it with graphic depictions of violence but theres really not, it's just one fight scene. but just to be safe!)

“From this day forth, you are banished. Cast out. You may never, ever return. Let this be a lesson to you, Ancel. Heed it well.”

They were the last words Ancel heard from the Lord before there was thunder, and he was falling. 

He fell silently, tumbling in circles for a bit before he stretched out his wings to help steady him on the air. Then he fell backwards, eyes watching the heavens recede, stars screaming at him. He was too shocked to react to his punishment. He blinked up at the sky, the wind drifting through his feathers. 

Cast out. 

Just as the words began to echo in his mind, he crash-landed hard in the middle of a street, creating a crack in the concrete. 

Luckily, he could not die. 

He thought he couldn’t feel physical pain either, but apparently, he had been stripped of some of his divine abilities as well as his home. 

He felt pain when he landed. Immense, excruciating pain. 

And he bled, though it was no longer the blood of angels, golden and sparkling. It had lost its hue and was now a dark and unpleasant murky color. 

Ancel twitched as he lay in the crater his body had made in the middle of the road, lying there as his bones re-shaped themselves and his injuries stitched themselves back together. He was glad he had not lost that ability, at least. It would have made for a very messy introduction to the human world. 

Earth. The human world. This was his new home now, it would seem. 

When Ancel could move again, he stood, shaking out his wings and his other limbs. Some of his feathers fluttered to the ground, coated in sticky blood. He took in his surroundings with all his senses. There were trees all around, pines and oaks. The air smelled like a storm, but that was perhaps the result of his fall. Beneath that was the scent of earth, fresh and untainted, for the most part, by human endeavors. The dusty two-lane road, the sidewalks on either side of it, and the two establishments facing each other from opposite sides of the street were the only signs of civilization. 

One was a motel, and Ancel almost laughed when he read the name on the flickering neon sign lighting up the night. Heaven’s Gate Motel. 

The building on the other side of the street was a bar, with another neon sign that hailed it as Damen’s Bar and Pub. Ancel weighed his options, trying to decide which establishment he’d fare better at. Perhaps the bar first, then the motel to sleep. He’d never tried human alcohol before. He knew the dangers of it, but he had been cast out of his home, abandoned by his family, and he supposed he had nothing left to lose. 

The weight of his punishment did not yet hit him, the Lord’s words and the looks on his family’s faces and the impact of his banishment seeming only like a distant dream in the moment. It was his mind’s way of coping, perhaps, but he would take it. He was on Earth now, and he must adapt. 

Ancel straightened himself and walked into the bar, pushing the door open. Humans could not see his wings, so he did not have to worry about hiding them. He stood in the entryway and stared for a moment, hit by a barrage of sounds and smells. It was sticky and smoky inside the bar, humid. The music was low, so unlike the songs the choirs sang in the clouds. This music was something with a deep guitar, a bass to shake Ancel’s heart. The people here were bearded, lumpy and bulking. They wore flannels and hats. They gripped bottles by the amber necks and drank deeply, eyes on screens hung above them. 

No one seemed to notice Ancel, so he walked over to the bar and sat down on a stool, his feet just barely brushing the ground. There was a man behind the bar with his back turned to Ancel, arranging glass bottles of varying shapes and sizes on a shelf. Ancel sat patiently and waited, wondering if he’d have to make himself known somehow. 

He did not have to wait long. 

The bartender turned, and when his eyes set on Ancel, he nearly dropped the bottle he was holding. His eyes widened as he looked at Ancel, and then he glanced around the bar, as if unsure of what he was seeing. 

He was handsome, this man. Very handsome. Ancel was smitten immediately. He had always liked humans, but this one in particular was divine. What luck he had, landing outside this specific bar. The Lord had meant to punish him, but even the Lord could not work against Fate. And as an angel, Ancel knew a thing or two about Fate. 

The bartender looked at him, eyes narrowed, and asked, “How did you get in here, kid?”

Ancel’s pretty smile morphed into an annoyed frown. He wasn’t  _ that _ young, only a hundred and ninety. 

“I’m old enough,” he said, rolling his eyes. 

The bartender smiled, not unkindly. He chuckled and asked, “Alright, then, can I see some ID?”

Ancel did not have a human ID, but he produced one out of nowhere, swiping his hand along his waist as if mimicking reaching into his pocket. The little plastic card showed a human surname and the legal age of 21. Really, he should be 19 in human years, but the bartender wouldn’t be able to tell the ID was fake. 

The bartender stared at the ID for a few moments and then handed it back to Ancel slowly, his lips in a thin line now, his smile gone. Ancel fluttered his lashes as he took the ID back and it disappeared beneath his hand. The bartender’s lips pursed even more, but Ancel wasn’t deterred. He supposed he would need a place to stay now that he could no longer go back to the heavens. He could stay at the motel across the street, and it would be easy enough to find his own shelter if the motel turned out to be not to his liking, but he thought he would rather stay with this human, instead. 

“Are you here for a drink?” the bartender asked, leaning his hands on the counter in front of him. Ancel liked the definition of his arms. He shrugged carelessly, eyes passing over the bottles on the shelves behind the man. 

“I’d rather have your name,” he said coyly. 

The bartender raised one eyebrow, but besides that his expression stayed neutral, lips still in their line, unimpressed. Ancel could see a look in his eyes that he didn’t quite like, and suddenly he was on a mission. He would get this man to bend, if not break. 

Just because he was banished did not mean he couldn’t have any fun. 

“You can call me Berenger,” the bartender said after a minute. Ancel didn’t know if it was his surname or his given name, but it didn’t matter. He liked it. It was different. He smiled and leaned forward over the bar, tips of his white wings brushing the dirty, sticky floor as he moved. 

“I’m Ancel,” Ancel said. “Lovely to meet you, Mr. Berenger.” 

“Can I get you anything to drink or not?” Berenger said, turning away from Ancel to clean some empty glasses with a rag. Ancel quickly picked out a drink from the menu he found next to him on the bartop. He ordered a cider, because they had something close to it in heaven and he thought it would taste familiar. 

Berenger poured him his drink and slid it in front of him before he moved down the bar to attend to his other customers. Ancel watched him, sipping the cider slowly. It did taste familiar. Not quite as sweet, not quite as good, but familiar. 

He sat at the bar all night, sipping his drink which bubbled and fizzed on his tongue, watching Berenger as he moved around and made conversation with the other patrons of the bar. He was a tall man, with dark hair and a taut body that Ancel unabashedly admired throughout the night. He had had dalliances with humans before, but none that looked like Berenger. He licked the taste of cider from his lips as Berenger glanced over at him, and when the man’s skin flushed, Ancel smiled. 

Berenger hardly talked to him the entire night, and when he did, it was stilted, almost formal. Ancel didn’t know why he was so uptight. Perhaps it was because Ancel looked young and Berenger knew he shouldn’t be here. Ancel wanted to laugh. If only he knew the truth. 

Ancel watched the other bar patrons, studying these humans up close. They were so interesting. They were smelly and loud and obnoxious, and a few of them were even so bold as to try to flirt with Ancel when they finally noticed him sitting prettily at the bar. Some of their flirting turned more aggressive, and a few times, Berenger was forced to step in, escorting the men out of the building before they could touch Ancel. Ancel let it all happen, smile on his face. He didn’t do a thing to fend off the men’s drunken affections and didn’t try to stop them when they reached out to touch him or dirty, nasty things spilled from their lips. He simply sat quietly and stared at them with big, wide eyes until Berenger approached, angry grimace on his face. When the men were gone, Berenger glared at Ancel. Ancel just kept smiling. 

“If this keeps up, I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” Berenger said stiffly after the fifth man had been escorted out. Ancel pouted, and he noticed the way Berenger looked away, cheeks red and eyes frustrated. 

“Why? I’m not the one doing anything,” he said innocently. 

Berenger just sighed and shook his head, returning to the bar to continue his methodical cleaning of it. 

Ancel tried to make idle conversation, and when Berenger didn’t respond, Ancel just talked and talked and talked. He told stories about his family, his old friends, leaving out details and being vague enough that Berenger wouldn’t know who he really was or where he had come from. 

He could tell that Berenger was interested, but that he was trying not to be.

The bar began to empty out around two in the morning, and that was when Berenger started to close down. Ancel continued to sit there, humming to himself as he drank his fourth cider. It hadn’t done anything to him yet, and he didn’t think it would at this point. Disappointing. He would’ve liked to be drunk. 

“It’s time for you to go,” Berenger finally said as he wiped down the bar one final time. “Closing time.” 

Ancel shrugged and said, “I don’t have anywhere to stay.” 

Berenger stared at him for a long moment, many emotions passing over his face in quick succession, before he sighed. He shook his head and reached into his back pocket for his wallet, and Ancel knew he was going to give him money to stay at the motel across the street. But then Berenger hesitated. He stopped. He put his wallet back, already looking like he knew he would regret this decision. 

He said, “You can stay on my couch, then. Just for tonight. Until I find someone else to take you in.” 

Ancel had spun the tale of how he was “kicked out of the house,” so Berenger knew part of the truth, at least. It was enough. 

Ancel beamed at him and hopped off his bar stool. “Wonderful. Do you live far?”

“Around the block,” Berenger said, stepping out from behind the bar. He took his coat off a hook on the wall and shrugged it on, glancing at Ancel, who was wearing nothing but a white shirt and white pants and soft white shoes. “We’ll walk. Do you have a coat?”

“No,” Ancel said sweetly, smiling when Berenger sighed that sigh again and gave Ancel his coat. 

It felt warm and it was big on Ancel. It smelled like Berenger, beer and grease and leather, but underneath that, the warm scent of spices. Ancel didn’t try to hide it when he breathed in the scent of it, eyes closed. He could feel Berenger watching him, and it pleased him. 

Ancel skipped by Berenger’s side as they walked out of the bar and into the night. The small crater Ancel’s body had made in the street was still there, and Berenger blinked at it, shocked. 

“What the hell,” he muttered. 

“What happened?” Ancel asked, looking up at Berenger. Berenger shook his head and stared at the crater uncomprehendingly. 

“No idea,” he said. He sighed. “I’ll have to call the county tomorrow, see if they can get someone out here to fix it.” He turned and began walking down the sidewalk, looking baffled. “That wasn’t here this morning.” 

As they walked, Berenger kept stealing glances at Ancel, but they didn’t touch. Ancel knew Berenger was suspicious of him, despite the very plausible story he’d told in bits and pieces throughout the night. He also knew it didn’t matter, because Ancel could see the truth of what Berenger wanted buried in his eyes. 

And he was going to make good use of it. 

“On the couch,” Berenger said firmly when they reached his apartment. It was warm and cozy, and Ancel felt at home immediately. “No funny business. Let me get you a blanket.” 

He walked away as Ancel sank into the couch on his stomach, stretching his wings out and letting them breathe. When Berenger came back with a blanket, Ancel had made himself so comfortable on the couch that his shirt had ridden up to expose his supple, freckled back, and Berenger stopped in the entrance to the living room, frozen. He cleared his throat and tossed the blanket at Ancel unceremoniously when Ancel rolled, smiling prettily at him. 

“Thank you,” Ancel purred, kicking his shoes off and tugging the blanket up to his chest. “Sleep well, Mr. Berenger.” 

Berenger just looked at him for a minute before he grimaced, turned and went to his bedroom. Ancel heard the door shut quite loudly. 

He didn’t sleep that night. When he was alone in the quiet dark, it hit him. 

He had been cast out of heaven. He had been punished and he could never go back home. He could never see his family again, though they’d always pretended he didn’t exist anyway. But he would miss his friends. He had a few close ones, at least. He would miss heaven, the landscapes and the light and the beauty. Though Earth was beautiful, too, and it had creatures as beautiful as heaven did. 

Ancel let himself feel grief for a few painful moments before he picked himself up. He refused to be sad. And he wouldn’t be lonely, either. 

He had been banished to this place, and now he was going to live, and he was going to make the most of it. He was going to get everything he wanted. There was no one to tell him no anymore. 

He got off the couch and snuck to Berenger’s room, opening the door quietly. Hall light spilled into the room and illuminated Berenger in bed, one arm tossed over his dark eyes, shirtless, the blanket covering the lower half of his body. 

Ancel bit his lip and felt a very human desire wash over him, something he’d been feeling all night, really, except now it was tenfold. He tiptoed across the room and climbed into Berenger’s bed, cuddling up against him. Berenger was too sleepy to realize what was happening at first, and he mumbled something unintelligible, turning to drape his arm over Ancel’s waist and pull him closer. Ancel trembled, overwhelmed with the sensation of warmth and human touch. He craved it in this moment. He needed this comfort. 

Then Berenger woke, eyes flashing open, and he shoved Ancel away none too gently. “No.  _ No.  _ What did I say, kid? No funny business. If you can’t behave, I’m sorry, but you’re on the street. Don’t try this with me.” 

He moved as far away from Ancel as he could, and Ancel sat up in the bed, turning his eyes wide and wet and hurt. He conjured up tears, and they were  _ real,  _ because he let himself feel hurt and betrayed by the people who cast him out of heaven. He let that and the sting of rejection wash over him. He had never been rejected before, when he’d been with humans. 

Berenger cursed. “Jesus. Come on, don’t do that.”

But Ancel didn’t listen, wrapping his arms around himself and crying. Part of it was an act, but part of it was real, and he hoped the real part would appeal to the man before him. He needed this tonight. He needed kindness and comfort. He had never gotten it from anyone in the heavens, which was why he’d tended to seek out the humans, dared to break the rules and appear on Earth. 

He felt Berenger slowly approach him again with a resigned sigh, and then Berenger’s hands were on his face, wiping his tears away with his thumbs. 

“Hey,” he said, voice much softer and gentler than it had been since Ancel had met him. “Ancel.” He said his name for the first time, and it sounded like he was praying to a deity, and it sang through Ancel’s veins, warming him up like so much sunlight. “Don’t cry, beautiful. Shhh.” 

Ancel perked up at the word, sniffling. “You think I’m beautiful?”

“I shouldn’t,” Berenger said, a pained look on his face. 

“But you do,” Ancel said. 

Berenger only hesitated for a minute before he said, “I do.” He brushed his thumbs over Ancel’s cheeks again, and then sighed and shook his head. He did that a lot, it seemed. “This shouldn’t be happening. I don’t even know who you are or how you ended up in my bar, but this is . . . it’s not right.” 

“Don’t say that,” Ancel said forcefully. “Who are you to decide that?”

“The responsible adult,” Berenger said, which made Ancel narrow his eyes. Berenger smiled like he found it endearing. 

“Well, I believe it was Fate,” Ancel said, tipping his head up, parting his lips. Because he knew that now. He wanted Berenger to kiss him. He would get it, soon.

“I don’t believe in things like that,” Berenger said quietly, though his eyes spelled something different. 

“I do.” There was such conviction in Ancel’s voice that Berenger looked taken aback, and he should be. There  _ was  _ such a thing as Fate and destiny. Ancel knew because he was an angel. He was there to guide humans along the strings of Fate, there to watch out for them when they strayed from the path. Fate and destiny might not have lead him to be cast out of heaven - it was his own choices that did that, but he wouldn’t regret them - but it did lead him to land on the street in front of Berenger’s bar. He believed that. 

They didn’t speak, just staring at each for a bit, Berenger still cradling Ancel’s face between his hands. Finally, Berenger broke. His shoulders fell. 

“You can sleep here tonight. On the other side of the bed.”

When Ancel smiled, he looked again like he regretted his decision. 

They started the night sleeping apart, but by morning, Ancel was curled up against Berenger’s chest, Berenger’s arm around him.

 

*

 

It was just one night, then a day, then three, then four, then a week. 

Ancel accompanied him to the bar every day. Once or twice they went grocery shopping or for a walk in the town, and Ancel would watch and learn and listen. Humans were so boisterous. Berenger had friends, and some of them asked Berenger who his new pet was. He scowled at that and cursed at them. Ancel simply smiled.

Ancel spoke mostly to Berenger, content to observe or use his facial expressions to talk the rest of the time. He was very good at using his face, talking with his eyes, and people seemed to like it. It made Berenger jealous. Ancel could taste it like smoke in the air and it made him smile. Berenger still hadn’t kissed him, though Ancel crept into his bed every night. 

Ancel did everything he could to entice the man into being with him, but Berenger was steel. The more he resisted, the more Ancel was determined to make him bend. It was a fun game. In the middle of the second week of his time with Berenger, he came close to winning. 

He had been using Berenger’s bathroom to take a shower, which was such a human thing for him to do that he did it as often as he could. He enjoyed the sensation of the warm water hitting his skin. It wasn’t pleasant to get his wings wet - it made them heavy and cumbersome - so he mostly took his showers with his body facing the faucet and showerhead, his back to the wall. He washed himself slowly with Berenger’s soap. When he got out, he wrapped a towel around his waist as he had seen Berenger do on the occasions when Ancel would try to catch him in compromising positions. Berenger became increasingly frustrated with him every time he did it, but Ancel was shameless and unapologetic. 

Ancel left the bathroom, the towel hanging low on his thin waist. Berenger was in his bedroom, the door closed and locked. He was on the phone with the mysterious Damen, who was apparently the owner of the bar where Berenger worked. Ancel had yet to meet him, but he’d heard his name quite often. 

Ancel hesitated outside Berenger’s door, an idea forming in his head. It was crude and wrong, but he was tired of Berenger ignoring his advances. Berenger’s growing feelings for Ancel were clear as day to the angel. He didn’t understand why the bartender wouldn’t just give in. There was no harm in it. 

He passed Berenger’s door and went to his own ‘room’ - which was still Berenger’s living room and the couch Ancel only occasionally slept on anymore. Berenger had bought him clothes, things like pants and shirts, but Ancel didn’t put any on just yet. He glanced again towards Berenger’s room, heard the low murmur of his voice. 

Ancel sat on the couch and closed his eyes, wings spread out behind him. He splayed his legs apart slowly. With delicate fingers, he tugged the towel off from around his waist. It fell open over his thighs, leaving him bare and exposed to the room. 

Listening to Berenger’s voice from down the hall, Ancel took himself in hand. He let out a small, quiet breath. He imagined Berenger’s voice closer to him, whispering in his ear. He thought of all the little ways it could sound, all the ways Ancel had heard it over the last week and a half. How it pitched when he spoke to customers at the bar. How it was husky when he laughed. How deep it got sometimes when he was speaking to Ancel, warning him not to ‘try anything.’ How it sounded in the morning, when he woke up with Ancel’s nose pressed into his skin. Ancel felt himself grow hard and hot in his hand, and he gripped himself tight, biting his lip. 

Before he was cast out, he’d experimented, had sexual experiences with humans who always did this for him. The men he’d been with always liked to tell him how to do it. At least in their dreams. Being with them through their subconscious minds was the safest way for Ancel to interact with humans without being caught, and he’d had quite a bit of fun with it, at first. The men he visited in sleep had had such interesting fantasies. He’d tried to go into Berenger’s dreams over the last week, but it seemed that was another of his abilities he’d lost when he struck Earth. He was sure it would’ve been much easier to get Berenger to fuck him that way. It was much more difficult to do in the waking world. 

He could only picture it as he stroked himself, finding a grip and rhythm he liked. He’d done this in the shower only a few times since he’d been staying with Berenger, but now he decided there was no use in hiding it. If Berenger caught him, so be it. 

Ancel kept imagining the man close to him, sitting next to him on the couch, telling him how to touch himself. He thought Berenger might be dominant in bed, but soft, too. Gentle. Ancel imagined how his hands would feel, his fingers. His cock. How he would taste. 

“Eric,” he moaned without thinking, eyes closed in rapture as he began to stroke himself faster. He was leaking, and he ran his fingers through the liquid, spreading it around his cock. Ancel turned his head and bit the couch cushion to keep from crying out, toes curling, knees rising as he brought himself closer to release. 

Eric was Berenger’s given name, a secret Ancel had discovered only a few days ago. Most of the bar patrons only ever called him Berenger, and the man himself hadn’t seen fit to tell Ancel his real name until the other night, when Ancel overheard a conversation between Berenger and one of his friends who’d come into the bar. The friend - with sandy hair and green eyes - was called Jord, and when he’d leaned over the bar to shake Berenger’s hand, he’d said, “Nice to see you again, Eric.” Berenger’s eyes had flickered to Ancel, who was pretending not to eavesdrop while he let one of the regular bar customers flirt with him. Ancel’s eyes had sharpened, quick and bright. He’d smirked.

He’d confronted Berenger about it later that night, when Berenger was making him dinner in the small kitchen. This was the routine that had formed since Ancel’s first night in the apartment - Berenger would take him to the bar every day, walk with him home, make sure he had food in his belly, and retire to bed. Most of the time, they started the night sleeping separately, but it was never long before Ancel was curling up beside the bartender on his mattress. In the mornings, Berenger would cook breakfast. He was a wonderful cook, and Ancel savored every bite. Berenger would watch him eat sometimes, eyes often on his lips. He would look away angrily every time Ancel smiled at him over his plate.

“Why didn’t you tell me your real name?” Ancel asked that night, crossing his legs in the kitchen chair. Berenger’s back was turned to him as he worked over the meal he was cooking on the stove. Ancel watched the man’s shoulders stiffen. 

“It wasn’t important,” Berenger said gruffly. “I told you, kid, you’re not staying here for long. I’m working on finding someone to take you in.” 

“Hmm,” Ancel said, tasting the lie in the air. He smiled when Berenger turned around and slid a dinner plate across the table to him, not quite hard enough to break it, but close. Ancel picked up his fork and delicately took the first bite, wrapping his lips around the food. He closed his eyes and sighed. When he opened them again, chewing and swallowing slowly, Berenger was still standing there, watching him. 

“It’s delicious,” Ancel said sweetly. “Thank you . . . Eric.”

He saw the effect it had on the man when Ancel said his name, and a thrill went down his spine, making his wings flutter in excitement. 

He’d said it sparingly over the last few days, enjoying Berenger’s discomfort whenever he did. He said it in moments he knew would catch the bartender off guard, and it was that much more satisfying for it. 

Ancel said it again as he stroked himself on Berenger’s couch, his body trembling as his hand moved faster. “Oh, Eric . . .  _ yes . . .  _ .”

When he came, it was explosive, shooting up onto his stomach and chest in thick white streams. In men’s dreams when he’d visited them, it had never happened like this. Ancel had never felt something this powerful before. He saw white lights behind his eyes, and for a moment it was like he was home again, pearlescent clouds and golden skies. His legs shut to quell the sensitivity in his lower half, and Ancel tipped his head back to the ceiling. He brought his fingers down and dragged them through the mess on his stomach. It was warm when he gathered a bit of it and brought it down below his cock, spreading it over his hole. Ancel moaned Berenger’s name again, imagining it was his fingers rubbing around his rim. He sighed. 

If Eric didn’t give in to Ancel soon, if he really insisted on denying the feelings Ancel had seen beneath the surface, maybe Ancel would have to find another place to stay. Giving up on Berenger would be less painful than staying around him while he rejected Ancel at every turn. The game would lose its fancy, after a while. 

Ancel was going to have to spend the rest of his now-mortal life on Earth, and it would be much shorter than he thought. He only had so much time to waste. It would be better spent finding someone who truly cared about him enough to admit it. 

When he opened his eyes, Ancel noticed that he could no longer hear Berenger’s voice from down the hall. 

 

*

 

It was the last night of Ancel’s second week with Eric Berenger that the tide changed. 

The bar was crowded on the weekends, and Ancel was used to it by now, the crush of people pressing in around him, the various sounds and scents. He always kept his wings tucked in close to his body on these nights, or else the people would get in the way of them and his feathers would be plucked and caught on buttons and coat zippers. He would get beer spilled on them, and that was always unpleasant to clean. Ancel wore some of the clothes Berenger bought for him - he’d picked them out himself. The first time Eric brought home clothes for Ancel to wear, they were plain and nondescript. That just wouldn’t do. The next time he’d gone shopping, Ancel had hung on his arm and begged Berenger to let him come along. Pouting and batting his eyelashes had done the trick, and now he had shopping bags of pretty, colorful clothes to wear. Berenger drew the line at accessories, but that was Ancel’s next goal. The clothes and food Eric had given him over the last two weeks were enough for now. 

Berenger was busy at the other end of the bar, tending to the anxious customers. There was some sort of sports game on tonight, showing on all of the television screens mounted above Ancel’s head. The bar patrons were wired and on edge because of it, and Berenger was calmly trying to keep them all placated. Ancel was watching him, leaning his elbow on the bar and his cheek on his hand. 

He was so handsome. Ancel had seen so many humans, so many faces, but Eric’s was more beautiful than any. He was stoic and severe in a way that excited Ancel, but beneath it there was kindness, a bit of soft edges. Ancel had seen it in rare moments, when he looked hard enough. Ancel already knew Berenger found him beautiful, but he hadn’t said it again since that first night, and Ancel wanted to hear it so badly. In fact, it seemed Berenger had gone out of his way  _ not  _ to compliment Ancel or show him affection in any way. When Ancel slept in his bed, he created a barrier of pillows between them now, and no amount of pouting from Ancel would change his mind. 

But Ancel noticed the flash in Berenger’s eyes whenever he let genuine hurt show on his face. He knew he was chipping away at the man, bit by bit, and soon, so soon, things would change the way Ancel wanted them to. 

He felt an unwelcome pinch on his backside, and Ancel yelped, startled out of his seat. He turned to glare at the man who’d touched him. He wasn’t a regular at the bar - Ancel didn’t recognize him. He was older and scruffier, and he smelled dirty. Ancel wrinkled his nose. 

“I didn’t say you could touch me,” he said stonily. The man grinned with yellowed teeth, leaning in close to Ancel. 

“Don’t get your panties in a bunch, sweetheart. I’m just playin’ around.” 

“Oh, are you?” Ancel wished he had his divine abilities back in that moment, if only so he could teach the man what true fear was. In the two weeks since he’d been struck down to Earth, most if not all of his divinity had faded away, all except his wings. Those, it seemed, were permanent. Ancel was sort of glad for that. He did so love his wings, and if he’d been stripped of them, he wouldn’t have been able to get over the loss. But the rest of his abilities, he was slowly learning he could live without. Being human wasn’t so terrible. 

Except now, when Ancel could do nothing but use his words to defend himself against unwanted attention. 

“Let me buy you a drink,” the man said, pressing himself close to Ancel. Ancel leaned away. 

“No, thank you. I’m not thirsty.”

“Come on, baby, don’t be like that. I’m being nice.” 

“No, you’re being rude. And I really don’t appreciate it.” Ancel moved as if to vacate his bar stool and sit somewhere else when the man caught his wrist and squeezed it tight, enough to make Ancel gasp. The man leaned close and growled in his ear. 

“You want to play hard to get, you little slut? Why don’t I take you out back and you can show me what else your mouth can do besides bitch at me?” 

There were so many other people in the bar, but they were all focused on the TV screens. Ancel didn’t want to cause a scene. He didn’t want to embarrass Berenger. But as he tried to fight off the man, he realized he didn’t have the strength. If he’d still been a full angel, he would have. He would have been able to send the man through a wall with nothing but a flick of his fingers. But he couldn’t now. All he could do was struggle as the man dragged him towards the door, attempting to kick and hit while the man’s larger body dwarfed his own. His fingers were greasy around Ancel’s wrist, his grip bruising. He yanked harshly, and Ancel cried out in pain.

“ _ No,”  _ Ancel said, raising his voice. “Get off me - Eric!”

At the panicked cry, Berenger looked over, and Ancel saw rage and fury and  _ fear  _ cross his face when he realized what was happening. He immediately abandoned his position behind the bar. He ran to where the man was pulling Ancel towards the exit and stepped between them, shielding Ancel with his body. He was big and imposing, standing at his full height, and Ancel’s hands - one of them, anyway; the other he cradled against his chest - bunched in his black t-shirt as he leaned his head against Berenger’s back. He closed his eyes and breathed.

Berenger took the man by the front of his shirt and leaned close to his face, eyes narrowed, voice deadly. “Don’t you  _ ever  _ fucking touch him again. I don’t know what you’re doing in my bar, but you are not welcome here, and if I ever see you around here again, I will call the police and have you brought up on harassment charges. Are we clear?”

“Fuck you,” the man spat, trying to reach around him to get to Ancel. “I’m not done with this bitch.”

“Yes, you are.” Berenger threw him. The man’s head hit the wall with a sound that made Ancel wince. He peered from around Berenger’s back and watched the man’s body slump to the ground as he groaned. Berenger crouched so they were eye-level and leaned close to the man’s face again, whispering in a voice that made Ancel realize just how intimidating Eric could be. “You are done here. Do not come to my bar again. Don’t even  _ think _ about it. And don’t you  _ dare  _ look at him,” he said when the man tried to glance at Ancel. “You have five seconds to get out of my sight.” 

They watched as the man struggled to his feet, spat at them both, and then left, slamming the door behind him. 

Berenger’s back was still facing Ancel, his hands clenched into fists. Ancel bit his lip and reached out to touch him gently. “Eric, I - ”

Berenger turned, frown on his face. “Are you okay?” He gripped Ancel’s chin and turned his face from side to side, checking for any injuries. Ancel shook his head. 

“I’m fine.” He rubbed his wrist. “I’ll just have a bruise, probably, but it’s nothing.” 

Berenger’s eyes narrowed. He took Ancel’s hand and carefully examined his wrist, holding it gently. Ancel winced when Berenger applied light pressure, and Berenger let him go immediately, nodding his head towards the restrooms. “Come with me.”

Ancel could do nothing but obey. Berenger stopped to retrieve a first-aid kit from behind the bar, and he followed Ancel into the bathroom, locking the door behind them. Ancel didn’t pay attention to the audience who subtly watched them as they disappeared, who had been watching the whole time. 

“Let me see,” Berenger said when they were alone, setting the first-aid kit on the edge of the sink. Ancel offered him his wrist. 

“Eric, I’m really okay - ”

“Shut it,” Berenger snapped without looking at him. “Let me look at it.” 

Ancel fell silent and stayed still as Berenger cautiously poked his wrist again. After a minute, his jaw tightened, and he grabbed angrily for the first-aid kit. He took out a roll of nude-colored elastic bandage and slowly wrapped it around Ancel’s wrist and hand, binding it tight. 

“Sprained,” he deducted, speaking through his teeth. Ancel looked down at his wrapped hand, blinking at it. Since he’d lost his divine healing abilities, he’d have to heal at the human rate. It didn’t hurt all that much, but it wasn’t pleasant, either. 

“Thank you,” Ancel said softly, looking back up at Berenger. Berenger looked away, his face all hard lines. 

“I have some painkillers I can give you if it hurts.” Berenger turned as if to leave, but Ancel stopped him, grabbing his hand without thinking. 

“Wait, please.” He squeezed Berenger’s hand, and Berenger closed his eyes, his jaw still tight. He shook his head. 

“I can’t, Ancel.” As if he knew what Ancel wanted. He sounded pained. 

“Why not?” Ancel whispered. “You care for me, Eric, I know you do. You can’t hide it anymore. Just please - let me be with you.” 

He moved his hand to Berenger’s face, placing it on his stubbled cheek. Berenger closed his eyes, his skin warm under Ancel’s hand. 

Ancel stood on his tiptoes, lips parted. His heart, his beating heart, tumbled over itself in his chest. His stomach was all aflutter, and his body felt tight. He felt a nervous tugging under his navel. 

Their faces were inches apart when Berenger opened his eyes and looked at him. They were depthless, deep and conflicted. Ancel could see the war Berenger was waging with himself, and he wanted him to know it was alright. He didn’t have to fight it. There was no one here but the two of them. 

“Kiss me,” Ancel whispered. 

Berenger let out an unsteady breath. His hand came up to cradle the back of Ancel’s head, the knuckles of his other hand brushing gently over Ancel’s cheek. Ancel smiled softly. 

“It’s okay,” he said, his fingers moving against Berenger’s cheek. Berenger closed his eyes again at the touch, his face softening. 

It began as a small thing, slow. Berenger’s intention was to be tender, but Ancel craved more. He wanted heat and passion, wanted everything he’d been denied in the last two weeks. 

He wanted it to be deep. He wanted it to mean something. Berenger’s lips brushed his, and for the first few moments, Ancel let it be soft. But then he traced his tongue along Berenger’s lips, easing it into his mouth. He joined them together, wrapping his arms around Berenger’s neck. When his tongue met Berenger’s, Berenger groaned and lifted Ancel up, setting him on the edge of the sink. Ancel’s legs spread to let Berenger fit between them. Berenger bit Ancel’s lip, nipping at him gently. Ancel’s tongue delved into his mouth again, eager and hungry. Their lips became wet with each other, and the sound of their kissing filled the bathroom, noisy and incessant. Ancel moaned when Berenger kissed along his jaw, down his neck, and began to mark bruises on his skin. 

Ancel spread his wings, though Berenger couldn’t see them. They stretched behind him and cocooned them both as Ancel scratched lines down Berenger’s back, under his t-shirt. 

“Eric,” he whispered as Berenger kissed his neck, finding a spot beneath his ear that made him shiver. He felt his body reacting and boldly brought Berenger’s hand down to where he was hardening. Berenger gasped, biting down once more on Ancel’s neck before he pulled away. 

They both breathed heavily, clinging to each other, Ancel’s hair a mess from Berenger’s hands and Berenger’s eyes glazed, cheeks flushed. 

“Take me home,” Ancel begged, hooking his fingers in the collar of Berenger’s shirt. “I want to go home.” 

Berenger’s eyes cleared, and he shook his head slowly, regretfully. He brushed his thumb over Ancel’s reddened cheek. “I can’t close the bar early.” 

Ancel whined, and Berenger swallowed, his eyes drifting to the bulge in Ancel’s pants. He stepped away and shook his head again, glancing towards the locked door. “I have customers, Ancel.” 

“But tonight?” Ancel asked, biting his lip. “Later?” It was clear that Berenger wanted him, and he was doing nothing to hide it now as he had over the past two weeks. He couldn’t hide it with the bulge in his own jeans. Ancel’s mouth watered, his pupils blown out. Now that he’d finally kissed Berenger, he wanted to do nothing else. He’d spend the rest of his life in Eric’s arms. 

There was no smugness that he’d finally gotten Berenger to give in to his attraction. No petty satisfaction. Only  _ relief.  _ The sighing sense of  _ finally.  _

Berenger only nodded. And then he left, abruptly, leaving Ancel alone in the bathroom. 

Ancel closed his eyes and touched the fingers of his good hand to his lips, swollen and plush. His heart felt like it had wings. Ancel’s own wings fluttered, a single feather falling to the floor. 

He slid down off the sink and composed himself before he left the bathroom. When he came back out into the bar, the men were still watching the television screens, chattering and drinking. Berenger was behind the bar again, pouring drinks. His eyes followed Ancel as he returned to his regular stool. 

Ancel sat and watched him the rest of the night. 

 

*

 

They were silent as they walked back to Berenger’s apartment together. Berenger said nothing when Ancel reached over and twined their fingers together, moving closer to his side. Eric seemed to be thinking, his face in its stoic mask. Ancel wished he could read his thoughts. 

He wasn’t going to let Berenger say no to this. Not after the kiss they’d shared. Not now that he knew for certain Berenger wanted him. He’d always known, but to have the tangible proof was a victory, one that Ancel wasn’t going to take for granted. 

In the apartment, when the door was closed behind them, they stopped in the entry and stared at each other. Ancel ached with want, his cock hardening again, if it had ever really softened after he left the bathroom. He took off the coat that Berenger had given him and let it fall to the floor with a soft thump. Berenger watched him, dark eyes fixated on his face. As Ancel stepped out of his shoes, Berenger slowly took off his own coat and hung it up on the hook on the wall behind him. Ancel reached out and took his hand. Berenger didn’t pull away. 

Ancel turned and lead Eric to the bedroom, walking with a purpose, with intent. He didn’t bother to shut the door behind them. There was no one else here. It was just the two of them, always just the two of them in this place.

When he turned to face Eric again, standing on his tiptoes to wrap his arms around his neck, Eric put a hand on his chest to stay him. 

Ancel waited patiently. There were words poised on Eric’s tongue, and he wanted to hear them before he did anything else. He felt as though they were going to be important. 

“Ancel,” Eric said. The way he whispered Ancel’s name made the angel close his eyes, lips parting. He felt like he would break apart with the smallest touch. “If you want to do this . . . if you want to be with me, you - ”

Ancel opened his eyes and squeezed the back of Eric’s neck. “You want to be with me, too.”

There was a pause. A weighted silence. And then Eric nodded, his thumb brushing over Ancel’s parted lips. Ancel had the sudden urge to take his thumb into his mouth and suck on it, but he didn’t. He only kissed it softly. 

“If we’re going to be together,” Berenger said, staring deeply at him, “then you have to be honest with me. You need to tell me the truth.”

Ah. So that was it. 

Ancel knew there must have been a reason Berenger had been resisting his attraction to him, and he’d always gotten the sense that it was because he didn’t fully trust Ancel. Ancel had spun stories on the night they met of a tragic past, a bad family, being abandoned and thrown out of his house, but he must have known at some point that Berenger would want more from him than that. And he deserved the truth. The only question was if he would believe it. 

“Okay,” Ancel whispered, trying to pull him down so they could kiss. “Alright. I’ll tell you everything. I promise, Eric. Just please . . . please kiss me again.”

He gasped when Eric’s mouth fell on his, the kiss just as deep and heated as before. Eric’s hands on his body were gentle, but his kiss was rough. His stubble scraped against Ancel’s face, his arms wrapped around his body. His lips pressed against Ancel’s and he traced his tongue over them, tasting him. 

He suddenly lifted Ancel up and set him down on the bed, laying him on his back. Ancel moaned as Eric’s tongue traced veins in his neck, as his lips brushed over the hickeys he’d made earlier. His fingers scrabbled at Berenger’s clothes, trying to get them off, but the man wouldn’t let him. He took Ancel’s wrists and pulled them above his head, grinding slowly against him as his lips found Ancel’s ear. 

“We’re going to do this my way,” he whispered, his breath warm against Ancel’s skin. Ancel shivered, a whine escaping him. “I’ve been letting you do things your way for two weeks. I know what you’ve been trying to do. You’ve been teasing me, playing games. I’m done. We’re playing my game tonight. Do you understand?”

When Ancel didn’t respond right away, Eric pulled his hair, yanking his head back. A shot of adrenaline zipped down Ancel’s spine. His wings were crushed beneath him on the bed, but he hardly noticed. He nodded, gasping. 

“Yes,” he moaned, arching against Eric. “Yes, I understand. Your way. We’ll do it your way.”

“Good.” Eric kissed his throat. “Good boy.”

“Oh, God . . .” Ancel whimpered when Berenger’s hand snaked underneath his shirt, his fingers finding Ancel’s nipples and teasing them. He rubbed them slowly, pinching them between his fingers and circling them with his thumb. Ancel was painfully hard and trying to rub himself against Eric’s leg where he lay on top of him, but Eric was heavy, and Ancel’s movement was limited. He was completely at Eric’s mercy. 

It was almost five minutes of toying with his nipples and kissing him dizzy before Eric finally rose up, kneeling on the bed. He let go of Ancel’s wrists to take off his own shirt. Ancel watched hungrily as Eric unbuckled his belt, sliding it out of the loops of his jeans and tossing it to the floor. For a moment, Ancel imagined that belt binding his wrists together, keeping him tied to the bed. 

“Don’t move,” Eric ordered when Ancel moved to take his clothes off. He stopped immediately, eyes wide as he looked up at the man above him. Eric unbuttoned his jeans, pulling the zipper down. And there he paused. He stared at Ancel for a moment that lasted too long. Ancel’s cock was leaking by now, and he wanted Eric to take care of it. 

Eric’s chest was sculpted, his muscles subtle but strong. Ancel bit his lip as his eyes swept over Eric’s body, down to the bulge in his jeans. He could see Eric’s cock jutting out, the fabric of his underwear tenting where he’d pulled his zipper down. Ancel’s mouth watered, breath going short. 

Eric let him look for a moment longer before he moved again, bending down to take the hem of Ancel’s shirt and pull it over his head. It caught on his wings, but Ancel pulled them in close to his back, and the shirt was freed, disappearing in the shadows in the corner of the room as Eric tossed it away. Eric pulled his pants off next, taking Ancel’s underwear with it. 

For a moment he just admired, taking in his fill of Ancel’s body, finally bared to him. Ancel resisted the urge to preen and show off. He was oddly shy under Eric’s gaze, as if he might somehow be disappointed. But that was silly. Eric thought he was beautiful. It was clear in his eyes, in the way he palmed his cock over his underwear. Ancel wanted to touch himself so badly, to relieve the ache in his cock, but he didn’t. He kept his hands by his sides, fisting them in the sheets on Eric’s bed. 

Eric seemed in no hurry to take his own pants off, leaving them undone as he moved Ancel’s body where he wanted it to go. He positioned him against the pillows at the head of the bead, spreading his legs gently. Ancel let himself be handled, quite enjoying the feeling of it. He liked this. Liked Eric taking control. Ancel knew he’d be dominant in bed. But he was right when he’d thought he would be gentle, too. Eric’s touch was careful, fingers caressing. 

“Keep your legs spread,” he said, voice deep. Ancel nodded, heart pounding in his chest, skin flushed with anticipation. He was worried about coming sooner than he wanted to. He was leaking rather a lot, and his cock was red, the head of it swollen. 

“Eric, I - ” He squirmed in frustration, trying to get him to understand. Eric smiled softly and reached over to the bedside table, where he pulled open the drawer and rifled through it before he pulled something out. He showed it to Ancel. 

“Do you know what this is?” he asked. Ancel shook his head, staring at the thing. It was a rubber circle, black, with small ridges on the inside. “It’s a cock ring. I’ll put it on you, and it will keep you from coming. Okay?”

Eric poised the ring over Ancel’s cock, waiting for his permission. Ancel nodded. “Yes. Okay.”

“I’ll remove it when I want you to come,” Eric said as he slid it down, securing it to the base of Ancel’s cock, under his balls. Ancel shivered and whined a bit when Eric’s fingers glided over his erection, spreading the pre-come around his tip and down his length. “There you go. Now bend your knees for me. Lift them up.”

He did as he was told, hands underneath his knees. He had no idea what Eric was going to do, and Ancel wasn’t sure he was ready. He’d never felt like this before. Being with men in their dreams couldn’t compare to this. Eric’s touch was indescribable. Heavenly. 

“Please,” Ancel whimpered, not entirely sure what he was begging for, only that he was begging. Eric was slowly stroking his wet cock, watching him react. 

“What?” he asked gently, one eyebrow raised. 

“I want you,” Ancel cried. “Eric, please, I want you - ”

“You’ll have me,” he promised. “But I told you we’re doing this my way. Be patient, Ancel. I need to get you ready for me.” 

Ancel whined, and Berenger reached up to cover his mouth. Without thinking, Ancel began to suck on his fingers, wetting them with his tongue. Eric gasped, his eyes narrowing sharply. He hadn’t told Ancel to do that, and they were supposed to be playing his game. But Ancel couldn’t resist. 

Keeping his arm outstretched, his fingers in Ancel’s mouth, Eric knelt between Ancel’s spread legs. He brought his mouth level with Ancel’s cock, and Ancel arched toward him, hurting with how much he wanted Eric’s mouth around his cock. But Berenger didn’t touch it. Instead, he mouthed at Ancel’s milky thighs, biting the tender skin between his legs. He traced his tongue over the V of Ancel’s groin, the junction between his leg and hip. He blew on Ancel’s hole, and the sensation it caused was like nothing Ancel had ever felt. He moaned around Eric’s fingers, eyes fluttering shut as Eric blew another soft, cool breath through his lips. 

Then he was  _ kissing  _ Ancel’s hole, his lips and tongue tracing the rim. Ancel could hardly stand it. He thought he might die when Eric licked him, tongue in a long, flat stroke against him. He shuddered, toes curling in the air. His hands made fists in the bedsheets. He sucked desperately on Eric’s fingers as the man pressed his tongue into him, slow and hot and incredibly, unbearably intimate. 

Ancel wondered how he tasted to Eric. He wanted to ask. Eric’s fingers tasted like the bar - sticky beer, salt from the bar snacks, but there was an underlying taste of Eric himself, something comforting and satiating. Ancel wanted to kiss him again, wanted to hold him, touch him or touch himself, but he couldn’t speak, couldn’t do much except whine and cry under Eric’s careful ministrations. Ancel kept his legs spread, falling apart as Eric’s tongue ravished his hole. He kept his hands by his sides, buried in the sheets, fingers aching with how tight he held them shut. His cock was redder than any other part of him, a puddle of pre-cum pooling on his belly. His belly felt tight, his head was spinning, his heart felt full. 

He didn’t know how long Eric’s head was between his legs, but it was long enough to make Ancel feel like he was flying, like he was floating again. He hadn’t flown since he’d fallen to Earth. He hadn’t used his wings to lift himself up since he’d been banished. He hadn’t tried, too afraid that he might not be able to, that it might be another of the things that had been taken from him. But Eric’s tongue in his hole, the open-mouthed kisses around his rim made him feel like he was in the sky once more, weightless and free. He liked this. Loved it. He hadn’t known people did this during intercourse, and he wondered why all the men he’d been with never dreamt this. 

When Eric finally took his fingers from Ancel’s mouth, Ancel’s jaw was sore. His thighs trembled from keeping his legs spread. He could hardly breathe. 

“Ancel,” Eric said gruffly when he sat up and noticed Ancel’s eyes were shut, head fallen to the side. “Look at me.”

He could do nothing but obey. Ancel looked at him, eyes wet, lips parted. 

“Did you like that?” Eric asked, running his hand over Ancel’s smooth leg. Ancel nodded, breathless and shaking. 

“Yes,” he whispered. Eric smiled, and it set something on fire in Ancel’s chest. 

“Good,” he said. “Now, I’m going to put my fingers in you before I give you my cock. Do you want to suck me while I’m doing it?”

“Yes,” Ancel said, sitting up too fast in his eagerness. “Please, please, yes.”

“Alright,” Eric said, pushing him gently back down. “Lie back. Relax.” Ancel nodded and followed instructions, making himself comfortable against the pillows again. He took a deep breath and let it out, trying to steady his heart. Eric straddled Ancel’s body, moving up to his face. He was careful not to put his full weight on Ancel, though Ancel wouldn’t mind if he did. 

“Keep your eyes on me,” Eric said softly as he reached back behind him. His fingers, soaked with Ancel’s spit, brushed against Ancel’s throbbing cock before they found his wet hole and circled around it teasingly. Ancel whined again, eyes on Eric’s face. 

“Shhh,” Eric soothed, his free hand on his cock. “Open your mouth, love.” 

He fed Ancel his cock slowly, inch by inch. Ancel wanted to close his eyes, to savor it, but Eric had told him to keep his eyes on him. So Ancel kept his attention on Eric’s face as he wrapped his lips around his cock, running his tongue down the length of it. Eric pushed one finger into Ancel’s hole at the same pace he slipped his cock into his mouth. Ancel shivered. It had been a long time since he’d had anything inside him. A long time since he’d felt anything like this. In all the rest of his time on Earth, he’d never forget it. 

Ancel sucked Berenger eagerly, like a student wanting to please the teacher, a pupil waiting for praise. A pet seeking affection. He suckled the head, caught the drops of pre-come weeping from Eric’s slit, and kissed his shaft before he curled his tongue around it, all the while keeping his eyes wide on Eric. Ancel could tell he was doing a good job when Eric pushed a second finger into him, stretching him wider. He whimpered around the cock in his mouth. 

“Good,” Eric said, his face frustratingly blank as he watched Ancel. “That’s a good boy.” His hand was in Ancel’s hair now, pushing it back from his forehead. Ancel wanted to run his own hands through Eric’s hair to see how soft it was, but he couldn’t reach. He cried out helplessly when Eric pushed his fingers deeper into Ancel, and then added a third. Ancel nearly choked on Eric’s cock, tears beginning to slip from the corners of his eyes as Eric hit the back of his throat. And yet he never broke eye contact, blinking through his wet lashes at the man above him. Eric’s thumb brushed away the tears, and he pulled his cock out so Ancel could breathe. He fingered him slowly, stretching him open. 

“What an angel you are,” Eric whispered. Ancel nearly choked again. Eric didn’t know how right he was. 

Ancel had promised he would tell the truth. And he would. He wanted to, now. He wanted Eric to know. 

Three fingers pumped slowly in and out of him, Eric’s thumb rubbing a spot just above Ancel’s hole that was driving him insane. He was moaning obscenely around the man’s cock, sucking it like he was a dying man and it was the last meal he would ever get to have. 

“So pretty,” Eric remarked, his free hand tracing Ancel’s face. “You’re beautiful, Ancel. Such a beautiful boy. Especially like this.” 

Ancel’s cock twitched, but he was unable to come with the ring still around him. He ached and whined as Eric suddenly took his fingers away, leaving him empty and wanting. He hated the empty filling and wanted to be filled, stuffed full, so full that Ancel would feel it in every part of himself. 

“I heard you, you know,” Eric said, his voice low and velvet soft as he slipped his cock out of Ancel’s mouth, a string of spit and pre-come trailing from his tip to Ancel’s wet lips. “Getting off to me. You were bold, touching yourself on my couch when you knew I could catch you. You wanted me to catch you, I think.” He raised an eyebrow as he reached behind him to squeeze the tip of Ancel’s cock. “Is that right?”

“Yes,” Ancel cried out shamelessly, arching into Eric’s touch. “Yes, I wanted you to - I wanted you to notice me.”

“I have noticed you,” Eric said, moving his body off of Ancel’s. “I’ve noticed you every day since you came into my life.” 

Ancel’s whole body flushed with pleasure, and he couldn’t help but smile. Something in Eric’s eyes was set aflame by that smile, and he moved Ancel again, gently lifting him up and maneuvering him on the bed. Eric sat up against the headboard and made Ancel sit on his lap, his cock rubbing against Ancel’s wet and empty hole. Ancel shivered, eyes falling shut at the sensation. He was nearly delirious with pleasure and the agony of being unable to come. 

“You’re going to ride me now,” Eric said, catching Ancel’s chin and tilting his face up so they were eye to eye. “I don’t have any lube right now, but I think I’ve gotten you as wet as I can with my tongue. And you were such a good boy and made my cock wet, too. But it will still hurt, even with the prep I gave you. Alright?”

“Yes,” Ancel nodded desperately, quickly. “I don’t care. You won’t hurt me. I trust you, Eric.”

“Have you done this before?”

Ancel decided it wouldn’t be worth telling Berenger about the men he’d been with in dreams, and he decided dreams didn’t count, anyway. He shook his head. 

“No,” he whispered. “Not like this.” It was an honest enough answer that Eric accepted it, nodding and reaching down to position his cock. 

“Lift your hips,” he said. Ancel did as he was told, kneeling up, his legs on either side of Eric’s on the bed. When he leaned forward, Eric kissed him, tongue sliding into his mouth. The tip of Eric’s cock brushed against Ancel’s hole, and he gasped. He lowered himself down slowly. The tip pushed past his sensitive rim, and Ancel trembled as Eric’s cock slowly slid into him, inch by inch. There was a burn and a pain that Ancel winced through, his eyebrows coming together as he grit his teeth and pushed past it. He’d had worse pain. And this would give way to mind-numbing pleasure. 

Eric held him as Ancel adjusted to the intrusion, stretched tight around the thick cock inside him. Eric whispered gentle praise to him, kissing Ancel’s face softly as his cock went deeper. “That’s it, love. Good job. Tell me if you want me to stop.”

“No,” Ancel whined, shaking his head. “Don’t stop. Please.”

Eric kissed his forehead, wrapping his arms around Ancel as he took the last inch. They paused, Ancel trembling, breathing unsteadily as he focused on the impossibly full feeling in his lower body. He wanted to feel this way all the time. 

He liked this position; Ancel could stretch his wings out fully, working out the cramp that had formed in them when he was laying on his back. He stretched them wide as they would go, sighing in relief. They reached all the way across the bed and several more inches to each side, almost knocking the lamp off the bedside table. Eric’s bedroom was not very big, but an angel’s wings were always in proportion to their body, and Ancel was small. At least, he was small compared to Eric. He didn’t much mind it. 

“You’ll ride me until I come,” Eric said softly, tweaking Ancel’s nipple and making him gasp. “Then I’ll take the cock ring off you and it’ll be your turn. Understand?”

“Yes,” Ancel said, mouthing along Eric’s jaw, kissing his neck. 

“Good,” Eric said, curling one hand through Ancel’s hair and the other against his hip. “Move now.”

Ancel wrapped his arms around Eric’s neck and began to move, rolling his hips slowly at first, moaning when Eric’s cock moved inside him. He bit his lip when Eric’s hands roamed his body, rubbing his nipples red before they moved down his fluttering stomach, brushed lightly against his swollen cock and finally settled on his hips, holding him steady. 

“Eric,” Ancel whimpered, his head falling against Eric’s chest. He took one of Eric’s nipples into his mouth and sucked, mewling around it. When Eric was sure that Ancel wasn’t in pain, he started to move his own hips, thrusting slowly in and out of Ancel’s hole. Ancel changed the pace after a moment, trying to shove Eric’s cock deeper, deeper inside him, wanting to really  _ feel  _ it. He wanted to feel it for days afterward. 

“I’m close,” Eric groaned in Ancel’s ear, which made Ancel sit up, licking his lips. He was surprised Eric hadn’t come already; he must have been holding himself back with the blowjob. Ancel would’ve liked him to come in his mouth or on his face. But that was for another time. 

“Come inside me,” Ancel moaned, rolling his hips faster. “Please, please, inside me.”

“Fuck,” Eric cursed, and his eyes widened a fraction. “We didn’t use a condom. God, I forgot. I’m sorry, Ancel, I didn’t mean to - I should’ve used one.” He looked genuinely upset, and Ancel hurried to placate him, leaning forward again and kissing him. 

“It’s okay,” he said against his mouth. “Eric, darling, it’s okay. I trust you. I know you’re safe.” As an angel, he was not susceptible to human diseases. Though that might have changed now that he’d been banished. He didn’t know. He didn’t care. He only wanted one thing right now. He bit Eric’s earlobe gently, whining in his ear. “Please come in me. I want to feel it filling me.”

Eric shuddered, gripping his hips harder. He groaned and cursed and thrust up, lust darkening his eyes as he gave in to his desires. His cock drove deeper and he hit a spot inside Ancel that made the angel nearly scream, head thrown back as he clenched tight around Eric and clutched him, thighs trembling. Ancel’s cock pulsed, but the ring constricting him wouldn’t let him release the way he needed to; instead, it was only a pathetic dribble, his balls tight and his cock throbbing with the need to be relieved. His cock hadn’t been touched since Eric put the ring around him, and Ancel didn’t know if he could stand it much longer. 

Eric held Ancel’s head to his chest as he came, shuddering beneath Ancel on the bed. His grip was bruising, but Ancel hardly felt it. His senses were too overwhelmed with the unforgettable feeling of Eric’s cock pulsing and releasing inside him in long, hot threads. He could feel it filling him deep and he wanted nothing more than to have Eric inside him like this forever, to get to have this whenever he felt like it. 

“Oh, Eric,” he cried, hands shaking as he twisted them in the man’s hair. Eric lifted his face and kissed him through the last of his own orgasm, emptying himself inside Ancel. “God, it feels good - it feels so good - ” He grinded his hips down harder, as if Eric wasn’t already as deep inside him as he could go. Ancel whimpered in pleasure-pain when his cock twitched again, demanding attention.

“Shh,” Eric soothed him, biting his lower lip gently. “It’s your turn now, love. Do you want to come?”

“Yes,” Ancel cried, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. “Yes, please.”

Eric nodded. He didn’t move them or adjust their positions, as if sensing that Ancel wanted to stay this way, connected like this. Instead he reached down and carefully removed the cock ring. Ancel gasped when he did, eyes fluttering shut. He thought he would come right away, but the ruined orgasm had complicated things, it seemed. He reached down to touch himself, but Eric grabbed his wrist and gave him a stern look. He shook his head, and Ancel’s eyes widened. 

“No,” Eric said. “I’ll take care of you.”

Ancel nodded, wrapping his arms around Eric’s neck again. Eric slowly wrapped his fingers around the base of Ancel’s cock, featherlight as he teased him. He kept his eyes on Ancel’s face as he gave him one torturously slow stroke. Ancel bit his lip, his own eyes fixed on Eric’s. Ancel’s cheeks were flushed, hair a mess, nipples hard and sensitive, skin reddened and damp with sweat. He was sure he looked a pretty picture, and he was right, judging by the way Eric drank him in. There was a darkening hickey on Eric’s neck that Ancel was quite proud of. He wanted to be covered in Eric’s marks when they were through. He wanted the whole bar to know when they returned tomorrow. 

Eric pinched the wet, leaking tip of Ancel’s cock before he stroked him again, still at a snail’s pace. In a bold move, Ancel thrust into his hand, desperate for more friction. Eric’s eyes narrowed sharply, and Ancel couldn’t help but smirk. 

His smirk faded into a frown and a whine when Eric took his hand away. “We’re still playing my game,” he reminded Ancel. “Remember?” His tone was deceitfully gentle.

“Yes,” Ancel said, nodding feverishly. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please just - ”

Eric gripped his cock again and squeezed it, drawing a moan from Ancel’s swollen lips. 

“That’s it,” Eric whispered, using his other hand to play with Ancel’s nipples again. “That’s a good boy for me.”

He rubbed his thumb against the slit of Ancel’s cock, traced his fingers around the crown of his head, his hand twisting and tugging at a gentle pace. Ancel’s breathing sped up, and Eric allowed him the small, needy thrusts he started making. Ancel was hardly conscious of the noises he was making - mewling, hungry little sounds as he buried his face in Eric’s neck and sucked another bruise into his skin. His nipples were oversensitive from Eric’s touch, and his cock was near to overstimulation. Eric’s cock was still in him, his seed still warm inside him, dripping out of him as he moved, and it was everything at once. 

“Eric, I can’t,” he whined, hands gripping his shoulders tight. “I’m coming, I can’t hold it anymore.”

He came explosively, and Eric aimed his cock up so that it splashed onto Ancel’s body, painting his belly and chest. Some of it landed on his chin, shot up onto his face, but most of it covered his stomach as Eric stroked him through it, milking him for everything Ancel had. 

“There you go,” Eric whispered, a note of something like pride in his tone as he smiled. “Let it all out, love. It feels good, doesn’t it? I made you wait for so long, poor thing. But it’s okay now. I’ve got you.” 

Ancel collapsed against Eric, spent, exhausted, heart pounding in his chest. His sweaty cheek dotted with his own seed was sticky against Eric’s chest, but there would be time for cleaning up later. Ancel leaned his ear over Eric’s heart and heard it beating almost as fast as his own. 

_ He loves me,  _ Ancel thought suddenly, whimsically, giddy with his orgasm still sending pleasant waves through his body.  _ I know he does. And I love him.  _ He loved him. And he was never going to give him up now, not for all the world. 

Eric’s hand came up to stroke his back, right between Ancel’s wings. Ancel almost purred with how good it felt. 

They stayed like that for a few moments, catching their breath, their hearts slowing. Ancel was so comfortable against Eric that he’d almost fallen asleep, the feeling of Eric’s thick cock softening in his ass warm and comforting enough to send him off. He stirred when Eric moved, gently lifting him. 

“Let’s clean you up,” he said softly, laying Ancel back. When his cock finally slipped out of Ancel, he clenched around nothing and whined at the gaping empty feeling. He wanted it back inside him. Eric’s come slipped out of him, and Ancel tried to hold it in. Eric watched him almost hungrily, as if he wanted to go another round. But he shook his head to himself and leaned over Ancel, his shadow falling over him on the bed. He laid slow, soft open-mouthed kisses on Ancel’s belly, his tongue cleaning up some of the come. He moved up to Ancel’s nipples and mouthed at them for a while, kissing and licking at them to his leisure. Ancel knew it wasn’t to get either of them excited again - this was just . . . worship. 

It was good to know that Eric apparently had a fixation with Ancel’s nipples and his belly. He spent a good amount of time kissing them while Ancel lay there, eyes closed as he smiled up at the ceiling. He moaned softly at the silk touch of Eric’s tongue against him, remembering how it had felt against his hole. 

Eventually, Eric got up to retrieve an actual washcloth to clean them both with. By the time he got back from the bathroom, Ancel had already made himself comfortable on the bed, burrowing into the soft sheets and pillows and blankets on his stomach, his head resting on his arms, wings stretched out. He made a noise of protest when Eric gently moved him to clean him, but he sighed happily when Eric ran the warm washcloth over him. The water cooled on Ancel’s skin. Eric’s cleaning of him was intimate, tender. When he rubbed the cloth between Ancel’s cheeks, Ancel bit his lip and arched his ass up welcomingly. Eric smiled and kissed him. 

“Tomorrow,” Eric said later, when he’d settled down beside Ancel in bed. 

“Hm?” Ancel asked, lifting his head from the pillows. Eric was looking at him, his expression shuttered and stoic again, back to the man Ancel had become accustomed to in the last two weeks. The change worried him, and his heart sank.

“Tomorrow you owe me the truth,” Eric said. 

Ancel looked away and nodded. 

“Yes,” he said. “The truth.”

Despite his anxiety over the reckoning that awaited him when the sun rose, Ancel curled up against Eric, craving his embrace while he slept. Eric stayed solid and immobile for a minute before he sighed and let Ancel crawl on top of him to sleep. Eric’s arm fell over his waist, and the weight of it, combined with the gentle way Eric’s other hand was running through Ancel’s hair, helped him drift off. 

 

*

 

Ancel woke alone. 

He stretched like a cat and winced. He hadn’t anticipated how sore he’d be, but after a minute, Ancel decided it was a good kind of sore, and he liked it. He stretched his wings out as far as they would go, and then his arms in the air. He hissed and brought his hand to his chest in pain, and then realized what he’d somehow forgotten yesterday when he and Eric were making love - he’d sprained his wrist last night at the bar. 

Ancel stared at the wrap around his hand, remembering the way Eric had defended him from that man, had made sure he was okay, had cared to his wound and then kissed him in the bathroom. 

He had to believe that Eric wouldn’t turn him away when Ancel told him the truth. Had to. 

He stretched his legs out in front of him, feeling his muscles and tendons pull tight. His body felt sated and relaxed. Comfortable. Happy. 

He could hear the sounds of Eric making breakfast in the kitchen. Ancel waited for as long as he could before he pulled himself out of bed and borrowed one of Eric’s t-shirts, slipping it over his head and pushing his wings out through it. The shirt came to just his thighs. He caught a glance at himself in Eric’s bedroom mirror as he went to the door, and Ancel paused to admire his reflection. He looked good in Eric’s shirt. He had a few of his marks on him, and they looked even better. 

Ancel’s smile faded when he looked at his wings. The truth. It was time for the truth. Ancel owed it to Eric. 

He walked into the kitchen with his head high, prepared to face the man he loved and bare everything to him. 

Eric was at the stove, working over a meal. He barely turned his head when he heard Ancel walk in, but Ancel saw the flash in his eyes when Eric saw him wearing his t-shirt. It was a possessive flash, proprietary, as if he liked the sight very much. That was a good sign, at least, that Eric still wanted him. Ancel thought maybe a good night’s sleep would have made him change his mind, or he would have had a clearer head. Lust blinds people, Ancel knew. Desire fell like a shade over human minds and often obstructed them from thinking clearly.  

“Morning,” Ancel said softly, sitting down at the kitchen table. 

“Morning,” Eric said, his voice a bit rough. He seemed tense, frustrated with himself. Ancel decided to let him speak on his own. Last night, they had played Berenger’s game. Ancel would continue doing things the bartender’s way until they found even ground between them. It was only right. And weren’t angels supposed to believe in things like fairness and justice?

Though Ancel supposed he’d never really been a proper angel to begin with. If he had been, he wouldn’t have been banished. 

But that was turning out to be a blessing, really. Ancel just hoped it would stay that way after Berenger learned the truth. 

He stayed quiet as Eric finished making breakfast, arranging two plates. He placed one in front of Ancel at the table and poured him a glass of orange juice; it was a variation of the same ritual they’d taken up every day since Ancel’s first morning in the apartment. Ancel thought back on the last two weeks. Every morning, Berenger usually reminded him that this was a temporary situation - he was looking for somewhere else for Ancel to go, someone else to take him in. Ancel thought maybe at first, Eric had tried. He might have made some calls, done research. But after a few days, he’d given up. 

Ancel wondered if that might change today. 

The silence had gone on for five minutes when Ancel finally gave in and asked, “What’s wrong?”

Eric’s jaw was tight, his hand a fist around his fork. He wouldn’t look at Ancel. 

“Last night,” he said, scraping his hand over his stubble. “I didn’t . . . we didn’t use protection.”

Ancel almost laughed, but he stopped himself. He settled for smiling softly instead. “Well, there’s no worry about me getting pregnant, is there?” Though if he’d had the ability, he would’ve gladly bore Eric a child or two, maybe even three. (Ancel banished the sudden, silly thought that he wished he  _ could  _ get pregnant, just so he could carry Eric’s child. He was going insane). 

“It doesn’t matter, Ancel.” Eric shook his head sharply. “It’s still unsafe. You should always use protection when you’re with someone for the first time.”

“I said I trust you,” Ancel reminded him. “You would have told me if there was anything I needed to worry about.”

Eric’s jaw tightened another fraction. A moment later, Ancel understood. He blinked in surprise. 

“You thought I might have . . . .” He couldn’t finish the sentence. 

“You told me when we met that you’d been sleeping on the streets,” Eric said, eyes narrowed. “I knew you weren’t telling me the whole truth from the beginning, but I believed you last night when you said you’d never done it like that before.  _ Like that,  _ you said. But I get the sense that other men have . . . they’ve done things to you. That you were forced to do things while you were on the streets.”

“So you think I’m dirty,” Ancel said, surprised by how much the implication hurt him. It shouldn’t have mattered; all of it was inconsequential, false stories and hints he’d laid down to paint a believable picture that would make Eric take pity on him that first night he’d landed outside the bar. But it was the principle behind it, that Eric could think he was tainted, that made his heart twist painfully in his chest. “You think I’m soiled, is that it?”

“I didn’t say that,” Eric said defensively, his tone rising a bit. 

“You’re thinking it,” Ancel accused him, amazed at the tears suddenly stinging his eyes. “You want to make sure I didn’t  _ infect _ you with anything, don’t you?”

“Ancel, please. Don’t act this way.” Eric looked and sounded exasperated, which Ancel was used to by now. “I’m just saying it would be practical for us both to be tested, so that we can know for next time.”

And suddenly the rising tide in Ancel ebbed. 

“Next time?” he asked, sniffling. 

Jarringly, Eric smiled. A real smile, small though it was. It was soft and kind and it reached his eyes and it had a very tumultuous effect on Ancel’s heart. 

“Next time,” Eric said, his tone as soft as his eyes. He reached out over the table and wiped one of the stray tears from Ancel’s face. His smile faded just a bit. “But there won’t be a next time unless you tell me the truth. I’ve let us both ignore it for long enough.”

Ancel nodded, casting his eyes down to the table. His wings fluttered nervously behind him. 

“Just . . . .” He took a deep breath, steadying himself. “Just promise me you won’t make me leave. I can’t be - ” He couldn’t be cast out again, not when he felt like he’d found his true home. He looked back up at Berenger, eyes beseeching. “Promise me you won’t make me go away.”

Concern darkened Eric’s face, drawing his eyebrows down. “Why would I have a reason to?”

Ancel winced when the immediate response wasn’t, “I promise,” as he had hoped. He sighed. He closed his eyes. Tried to prolong the inevitable by drinking the rest of his orange juice. 

“Let me finish speaking before you say anything,” Ancel said. After a moment’s hesitation, Berenger nodded. He looked wary. And buried deep underneath that was something akin to fear. Ancel didn’t know what he would have to be afraid of; Ancel was the one who had the most reason to fear anything. 

Ancel didn’t want to get his hopes up that Eric’s fear might be for him, Ancel, rather than for the bartender himself. 

“I was . . . kicked out, so to speak,” he began, keeping his eyes on his lap. His fingers twisted anxiously in the hem of Eric’s t-shirt. “That part was the truth. But I didn’t live anywhere around here. I . . . .” His hands shook. He thought it might be better to gather up his courage and say it all in a rush. To draw it out and reveal it all piece by piece would be torture. “The truth is, Eric, that I’m not like you. I’m not human. Not completely. Or, at least, I wasn’t. I’m not quite so sure now. And I know this will sound ridiculous to you, and you’ll think I’m insane, and I  _ know  _ you’ll send me away, but I promise you with everything I have and everything I am that this is the truth, and it’s all I have to give you.

“I’m an angel. You humans have your notions of faith and believing in God and guardian angels, yes? I’m . . . part of that. I’m not really a guardian, not a proper one, but I’m an angel, and I was born in the Kingdom of Heaven. But I was banished. Permanently cast out because I broke the rules. I spent too much time on this plane when I lived in the Kingdom, and I wasn’t careful about it. I liked people more than I should. I was too curious. I kept showing myself to humans, human men, making myself known, even though I knew it was something I would be punished for. One day I went too far, I suppose, and the Lord had enough. He banished me. That was the night I fell outside your bar. The night we met. The crater in the ground outside, that was where I fell. 

“I lost most of my divine abilities when I fell. The only thing I know I still have for certain is my wings. You can’t see them - no one can. But they’re there. I don’t know if I’ll have them stripped away at some point, but I think that the longer I stay here, the more human I’m becoming. I don’t know. I don’t have my family anymore, no one to explain it to me. I’m on my own in this world now, alone, and all I have is you.” 

Ancel stopped, gasping for breath, tears streaking his face. He was trembling, his heart pounding so fast that it nearly choked him. He had been holding this back for a long time, and now the weight of it overwhelmed him. He dared to look up at Eric. The man was slumped back in his chair, his expression dazed. His eyes seemed far away. Ancel couldn’t tell if he was upset or angry or just in disbelief. 

“Please say you believe me,” Ancel whispered, voice breaking. “I swear, Eric, it’s the truth. Please don’t be angry with me. Don’t make me leave. I’m so sorry I lied to you, but you see now why I did, yes?” When Eric didn’t respond, Ancel couldn’t hold back his sob. “Say something,” he begged. 

Eric stared at him, and Ancel could read not a single expression on his face. 

The man stood up. Ancel looked up at him, the smallest spark of hope in his eyes, but Eric walked past him. Towards his room. 

“Wait,” Ancel said, scrambling from his chair to follow him. “Eric, please - I love you.”

He didn’t know why he said it then. His heart was experiencing too much at once for him to keep the words inside. “I  _ love _ you,” Ancel cried, the words torn from him as tears spilled down his cheeks. “I didn’t mean to - to - ”

Eric stopped, his back turned to Ancel. Ancel waited, fingers twitching towards him. 

There was just the tiniest shake of Eric’s head. And then he went into his room and closed the door behind him, shutting Ancel out. The click of the door was quiet, but Ancel heard it like a shot throughout the apartment.

Ancel stood there for a moment, numb. He felt cold. Frozen. He couldn’t breathe.

When he could make his legs move, some time later, he made himself walk into the living room, where he kept most of the things he’d acquired since he’d been living with Berenger. His clothes, mostly. Ancel took off Berenger’s t-shirt with shaking fingers, balling it up and tossing it onto the couch. He dressed himself in pants, a shirt, a jacket, shoes. The numbness stayed with him as he straightened up and looked around the room. There was nothing much he wanted to take with him. Memories would be enough. But Ancel thought eventually, he would abandon even those to spare himself the pain. 

He paused at the door, wondering if he should say goodbye. 

Though from the way he’d shut his door, Ancel thought Eric might not want to speak to him. Maybe ever again.

He could leave a note, then. Saying . . . what? Ancel, at least, had said everything he could. There was nothing more he could do to make Eric believe him except beg, and even then, it was unlikely the man would hear his pleas. The look on his face had been blank and empty, disconnected. Ancel knew what meant. He had spent enough time observing humans to know. Whatever happened between them last night would not happen again. Whatever Ancel thought it had meant was nothing now. Though Ancel’s words had been the truth, Eric would not believe him.

Ancel looked down the hall towards Eric’s bedroom, heart cleaving in two. He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his forehead against the wall. A tear fell from his cheek and landed on the floor of the apartment, darkening the wood. 

He left the place he’d come to call his home. He didn’t look back when he shut the door behind him.

As he left, a feather fell from his wings and fluttered down to land on the threshold, settling against the floor with the teardrop.

 

*

 

Ancel didn’t know where he was going, but he decided, when he was outside, that he was going to try to fly. He wanted to be far from here now, and the fastest way to do that was by wings. 

He looked to make sure there was no one around him. Berenger’s neighborhood was quiet, quaint. There were no other souls on the sidewalk to watch Ancel spread his wings, to wait for a gust of wind, to jump up and catch the air between his feathers. Ancel was only surprised that it worked for a second before he straightened his wings and pushed them, carrying himself up. 

What a feeling it was to fly again. Ancel had almost forgotten what it was like. As soon as he was off the ground, he felt freer, lighter. His tears dried on his face with the wind. He could breathe again, for the moment. 

Ancel flew over the houses and complexes, the businesses and storefronts. He flew past the street where he’d landed two weeks ago, the bar and the motel standing across from each other. The hole he’d made in the middle of the road had been repaved - Berenger had called the county a few nights after Ancel arrived, and they’d sent a work crew to lay down new concrete. It was almost as if there’d never been a hole at all. But Ancel still vividly remembered when he fell. How much it had hurt to land. And how he’d forgotten his aches and pains the minute he set his eyes on the bartender in Damen’s Bar and Pub. 

Ancel flew over trees and streets, rising higher and higher through the clouds. With each meter he rose, he tried to erase Berenger from his mind. It was clear that Eric hadn’t believed him. That he wanted Ancel to leave. That he wanted to forget all of it had ever happened. If Ancel needed further proof that he was becoming human, the uniquely painful feeling of his heart breaking was evidence enough. It was like a thousand glass shards in his chest, tearing him apart from the inside out.

But he would let himself feel deeply later. First, there was logic and reason to be had. He needed to find a new place to stay now. Perhaps there was someone out there who  _ would _ believe him. Another man like Berenger who would take him in. Someone kind. Ancel needed kindness now, more than anything. 

He thought of the way Berenger had held him last night. Thought of the way he’d kissed Ancel, how his touch had been gentle and yet rough. The marks of his lovemaking wouldn’t fade on Ancel’s skin for some time yet. After two weeks of resistance, Berenger had finally shown Ancel what it was to lie with him, and he’d been open with him, at least for those moments. He’d cradled Ancel to sleep, arms around him.

Ancel flew higher, fighting off a choked sob. And then, suddenly, he hit an invisible wall, and he tumbled down through the sky. 

He had a sudden flashback to the night he’d fallen, tumbling end over end, unable to steady himself. Like the first time, Ancel didn’t scream as he fell; only blinked in surprise. Most of him was still numb, and he could do no more than watch the world spin around him. This time, at least, he landed on grass instead of concrete. 

He skidded in the dirt, creating a deep groove in the ground like a comet had struck. He gasped in pain when he twisted his wings and feathers were torn from him. A hole ripped in the leg of his jeans, and his sprained wrist shot out to catch his fall, which was a mistake. Pain shot up Ancel’s arm, and he cried out, clutching his hand to his chest. He spat dirt from his mouth and wiped it from his face, but he was sure he only succeeded in making himself look more of a mess. Tears stung his eyes, and he sniffled as he tried to sit up and take stock of his surroundings. He’d landed in a park somewhere. He thought he’d seen the tall, shiny buildings of a city in his sights before he fell. 

Ancel looked up at the sky accusingly. “So you won’t even let me have this,” he spat. “I can’t even fly now? You’ve taken everything from me!”

There was no response. The sun shone too brightly, mocking him. 

Weakly, Ancel pushed himself up from the ground. He shook the dirt from his wings, trying to look behind him to assess the damage. The white feathers had been stained, and he was bleeding in a few places. Small pebbles and rocks in the ground had scraped him, and his knee was bloody where the hole had been torn in his jeans. Ancel made a small, helpless sound and began to walk. There was nothing else for him to do. 

He didn’t pass too many people, and those he did just gave him strange looks. Ancel ignored them, keeping his eyes down. He was sure they were red and puffy from his tears; his face felt hot, and his throat was still half-choked with emotion. His heart still hurt, and would likely not stop hurting for a long time. Until or unless Ancel managed to push Berenger from his mind. 

He didn’t know how long that might take. He’d never loved someone before, and he’d certainly never had his heart broken by the one he loved. He was unprepared for this. 

Ancel had always liked watching humans in love, before he was cast out. They filled him with such a warm feeling, the way they cared for each other, the tenderness with which they treated each other. There was something different about the smile on the face of a person in love. Lovers, especially those fortunate enough to love each other so passionately and honestly, were among the luckiest people on Earth, Ancel thought. 

He’d been naive. He hadn’t known the pain love could cause, hadn’t really seen it, or had chosen not to pay attention to it. This was his penance, then, for believing in fairytales, entertaining fantasies. He supposed he’d always been naive. The other angels used to tell him so. 

He imagined them watching him now. His family. The Lord. He thought they’d be laughing. 

_ Let this be a lesson to you,  _ the Lord had said moments before he cast Ancel out.  _ Heed it well.  _

It was a small comfort to know he’d never have to face them again. If he’d been allowed to return to Heaven, it would’ve been in shame. 

The day waned as Ancel walked, limping. He tried as best he could to avoid people, but he didn’t know the territory - he’d flown away from the town Berenger lived in, away from the few places he’d gotten to see while staying with the man - and was uncertain of where he was going. Eventually, he reached the city, and he found an alley between buildings to rest. Ancel closed his eyes as he slumped against the brick wall, shivering. 

He sat down and began to cry silently, head on his knees.

He wondered what Berenger was doing now. Still in his room, sleeping, trying to convince himself it had all been a dream? Or perhaps at the bar, drinking, trying to make the last two weeks disappear. Because when it came down to it, there were very few humans who had the capacity for believing in the impossible. Ancel knew that. In the back of his mind, he’d known that from the beginning. He knew there was a risk in telling Berenger the truth. But he’d done it anyway, because Eric had asked him to. And Ancel loved him. He would do anything for him. Give up everything.

A sob tore from Ancel’s throat. 

“I don’t know why you’re crying,” a voice said from in front of Ancel. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

Ancel looked up, his vision clouded with tears. When he blinked them away, he thought he was hallucinating. For a brief, blissful moment, he thought perhaps he was dreaming, and that in a few moments he would wake up next to the man he loved.

But the figure in front of him was too bright to be anything but real.

“Laurent?”

The angel across from him had long blonde hair down to his shoulders, piercing blue eyes, and alabaster skin. He was lithe and graceful, and his wings had a golden tint to them, even in the fading sunlight. He wore deep blue, and he was still as beautiful as the day Ancel had last seen him, three days before he’d been banished. 

Laurent had been one of his closest friends. They’d often spent their time watching the humans together from above, laughing and making games out of it. Laurent was older than Ancel, and his place in Heaven was much higher - Ancel was simply an angel, one of countless, but Laurent was near a prince. He was the Lord’s favorite. Though from what Ancel remembered, that had never been a good thing. The Lord, despite what humans thought, was not so merciful. 

“What are you doing here?” Ancel demanded, too stunned to push himself up from the ground. Laurent leaned against the wall opposite him, careful not to let his wings touch the dirty brick. He shrugged loftily. 

“I thought it about time I visited you,” he said. 

“No one sent you?” Ancel asked. “You came of your own will? Laurent, you could be punished - ”

“Oh, relax.” Laurent waved a hand in the air to dismiss the matter. “I don’t intend to stay.”

Ancel had thought about Laurent sparingly in the last two weeks, and now he felt guilty for it. He’d missed his friend. Laurent was perhaps one of the only things he missed about Heaven. 

“You came to see me?” Ancel’s voice was small and pitiful. He attempted to smile. “I missed you too, Laurent.”

“I must admit I thought you’d be reveling in your time on Earth,” Laurent said, raising a pale eyebrow. “I asked the Lord to check in on you, but he refused. He said you were no longer the Kingdom’s concern, or anyone in it. But I got the feeling he knew your whereabouts. So I snuck into his chambers and took a peek through the clouds. I did not think I’d find you in such a pathetic state.”

Ancel did not even have the heart to be angry. He simply shrugged. 

“Fell in love with a human, did you?” Laurent asked, his voice markedly softer. When Ancel didn’t look at him, he chuckled. “Poor Ancel. I thought as much would happen. You could never stay away from them. I always knew they would be your downfall.”

“I told him the truth,” Ancel said, voice dry. “About what I am.”

“I take it it did not go well?”

Ancel shook his head, a fresh wave of tears threatening to fall. He swallowed thickly and squeezed his arms, ignoring the pulses of pain that came from his bruises and cuts. Laurent sighed and knelt to Ancel’s level. 

“I thought he loved me,” Ancel whispered, unable to meet Laurent’s eyes. “We . . . we lay together, and I thought that meant he . . . .” His lip wobbled and Ancel gave up. He let the tears fall.

“Oh, darling.” Laurent placed a sympathetic hand on Ancel’s cheek, his eyes uncharacteristically soft. “I’m sorry, Ancel.”

Ancel threw his arms around Laurent and hugged him desperately. It was almost unbearable to see his friend again after he thought he’d never see anyone from the Kingdom again. It was almost painful to hug an old friend again, to know he wasn’t so alone, that they hadn’t all forgotten about him. He hadn’t been abandoned, not completely. 

Laurent hugged him back, soothing him with calming noises. He let Ancel cry, soaking his tunic. Ancel didn’t know how many tears he had left in him, but he seemed to cry them all, until his throat was raw and his eyes were red and stinging. Laurent smoothed the feathers in Ancel’s wings, holding him until Ancel finally calmed. 

“You’re filthy,” he said when they pulled back from each other, which made Ancel laugh. It felt good to laugh, in spite of everything.

“I fell,” he said. 

“I suppose we should find a place to clean you up.” Laurent stood, pulling Ancel up with him. “I can help you find shelter, at least, before I have to go. We’ll make sure you’re not alone.”

“Thank you,” Ancel said softly. He squeezed his friend’s hand. “Thank you for even coming to see me.” He knew what the cost would be if Laurent was discovered, and it meant more to him than he could say that Laurent still cared about him enough to risk it.

Laurent shrugged. “The Kingdom is boring without you. Nicaise pesters me constantly, and Auguste is off in other lands all the time. Erasmus has taken up with Torveld, did you know?”

Ancel gasped, shocked. “No! Truly?”

“It’s the only exciting thing that’s happened since you’ve been gone. They seem happy together, I suppose, and Torveld spoils him with jewels and delicacies.”

“Good for him,” Ancel said with a smile, thinking of the clothes Berenger had bought for him. Ancel had planned to get him to buy accessories next. He shook his head to rid himself of the thought. 

“We will find you someone to spoil you as Torveld does Erasmus,” Laurent said gently. “I won’t leave without knowing you’ll be well taken-care of.”

_ Eric took good care of me,  _ Ancel thought.  _ He may have been resistant, but he took good care of me. He fed me every day. Gave me clothes. Let me sleep beside him. _

The thought ached like a bruise, and Ancel tried to stop his pattern of thinking before it went any further. 

Laurent slung an arm around Ancel’s shoulders, pulling him close. “Come. Let’s find a handsome human to take pity on you, shall we?”

Ancel tried to laugh, but it was a weak thing. 

They walked out of the alleyway together, onto the narrow sidewalk. The city was big and loud, full of smells and diverse humans of every kind and color. It was getting late now, and the lights were coming on, blinking and bright and colorful. Ancel was reminded of the neon glowing sign outside of Damen’s Bar. 

For a moment, he had the brief thought that he was sad he’d never got to meet the illustrious Damen. He’d heard Berenger on the phone with the man a number of times, and he was presumably the owner of the bar, but he’d never made an appearance. Ancel let the pang of regret flow through him and then tossed it away with the rest of his sorrows. There was nothing for it now. Shelter was Ancel’s priority - he would not sleep on the streets when there was a perfectly good bed available to him somewhere. He intended to find it through any means necessary, and with Laurent’s help, it would not be difficult. 

“Are you hungry?” Ancel asked as he and Laurent passed a storefront, delicious smells wafting from the place inside. He only now noticed his stomach was rumbling unpleasantly; he hadn’t eaten since this morning, at his last meal with Berenger. A fresh wave of pain battered Ancel’s heart, and he almost kept moving, but his hunger won out. He tugged Laurent towards the door of the take-out restaurant. “Come. You  _ must  _ try it. Humans like to eat things fried and covered in oil and grease - it sounds horrendous, but it’s the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted.”

Laurent looked very doubtful, but he followed Ancel into the restaurant. With little trouble (Laurent produced money from his pocket, magicking it the same way Ancel had made an ID appear to show Berenger on the night they met), they ordered heaping baskets and styrofoam boxes of food. These wonderful things called chicken fingers, potatoes cut into thin fried sticks that curled in delightful bouncy spirals and were seasoned with salt and pepper, wide golden rings made of onions with a crispy breaded coating, and dipping sauces of melted cheese and sweet honey mustard. They ordered two drinks to go with their hearty meal, a raspberry-flavored carbonated drink for Ancel and a sweet pink beverage for Laurent, and sat at a table with their spoils spread out in front of them. Ancel looked at Laurent over the table, grinning. 

“Well,” Laurent said, eyebrow raised. “It does smell appetizing.”

“Try it,” Ancel encouraged. “The curly fries first. That’s what they’re called, these springy things.” He picked one up and bounced it to show Laurent, who hid a laugh behind his hand. 

“I suppose there are some benefits to the human species, after all.” Laurent chewed on a curl and his eyes widened in clear pleasure. “Why don’t we have anything like this in the Kingdom?”

“I have no idea,” Ancel said. He slurped his drink through a straw and closed his eyes as the bubbles fizzed on his tongue. The raspberry flavor was mixed with a lemon-lime taste, and it was wonderful. Ancel felt more than a little better once he was eating, silence falling between him and Laurent while they devoured their meal. With his old friend in front of him again, it was easy for Ancel to forget his troubles. 

Harder to remember that Laurent would have to leave soon, and Ancel didn’t know if he’d be able to come back. 

Sensing the pattern of his thoughts, Laurent smiled gently at Ancel. “I wish I could stay. Especially now that you’ve shown me the wonders of human eating habits.” He dipped a chicken finger in honey mustard and ate it before he spoke again. “But the Lord likely knows I’m here now, and he will not be pleased when I return.”

“I’m glad you came,” Ancel said softly. “You shouldn’t worry about me. I’ll find my way. It was easy the first time. I don’t suppose now will be any harder, if I play it right.”

“Humans are very gullible,” Laurent agreed. “But be careful to find a good man. There are too many nasty ones running about.” 

Ancel’s wrist throbbed faintly, and he rubbed it. Laurent’s glance fell to it in interest. The eyebrow raised again, his gaze questioning. “I did always wonder what happened when one of us fell. Or was made to fall, I should say. You’re losing your divinity, then?”

“Slowly,” Ancel said. He explained what the last two weeks had been like, and Laurent’s attention was rapt on his words. “I think the wings are permanent, but I’m glad for that. I don’t know if I could live without them.” They were a part of him, limbs as much as his arms and legs were. He’d feel crippled without them. “The one thing I haven’t been able to tell is if I’m aging at the rate of a normal human now.” 

“It would be logical,” Laurent said with a shrug. 

“I suppose so.”

“I see it as a blessing.” Laurent reached across the table and took Ancel’s hand, squeezing it comfortingly. “You can find love again, Ancel, and with someone who will love you back. And you’ll be able to live a long and happy life with him, the proper way these humans like to do it.”

_ Eric loved me,  _ Ancel thought.  _ I know he did.  _ He smiled sadly. 

They finished their meal and threw away the scraps, leaving the warmth of the store for the night. It had grown colder while they were inside, and Ancel’s jacket was not enough to shield him from the weather. He shivered, huddling against Laurent, who seemed unperturbed by the temperature. Laurent looked around the street, eyes passing over the buildings and signs and people bustling about. 

“Now, let’s see,” he said, with the air of someone about to conduct a very important matter. “Where would we find a good man around here?”

Ancel was about to suggest a bar, since he’d found Berenger in one. But then he remembered the regular patrons of Damen’s and thought better of it. 

“Perhaps . . . a bookstore? Or a cafe?” Berenger had taken Ancel to a bookstore once, one of the times when he’d taken him shopping for new clothes. Ancel had been fascinated by all the books - there were libraries in the Kingdom, but Ancel had never been allowed near any of them since the Lord kept dominion over most of them. In the bookstore Ancel had visited, there had been people reading in nooks and crannies, doing work silently, studying, or sleeping. They had seemed nice. A bookstore seemed like a good place to find a human with compassion. 

“I suppose we should ask someone where to find one of those, then,” Laurent said practically, and before Ancel could stop him, he grabbed the sleeve of a man walking by and tugged him to a stop. “Excuse me, sir, but - ”

The man stopped and gave Laurent a strange look. He jerked out of his grip and started to walk off when he saw Ancel and stopped again, eyes squinting. 

“Hey,” he said, his voice deep and somewhat familiar. He had burnished skin, a head full of dark curls, and warm eyes. He was big and muscular, taller than both Ancel and Laurent. He nodded to Ancel, face inquisitive. “You’re Ancel, aren’t you?”

Ancel nodded slowly, confused. “I don’t think we’ve met.”

“No, we haven’t.” The man smiled. He looked almost relieved, and he sighed. “But I’ve been looking for you. I didn’t think I’d find you out in the city by yourself, though.”

And suddenly, with a startling realization, Ancel knew who he was. 

This man was Damen. 

He recognized the voice, though it was much clearer than Ancel had heard it muffled through the phone. He hadn’t expected Damen to look like this, or to know who he was. Ancel was too stunned to respond for a moment, staring at Damen in mute shock. Laurent looked back and forth between the two of them with glittering intrigue in his eyes. He looked at Damen appreciatively, gaze sweeping over him slowly. Ancel saw Damen look back, and it was like he noticed Laurent more clearly than before. His eyes darkened a bit, face changing almost imperceptibly. Laurent smiled like a snake. 

“Both of you,” Damen said, shaking his head and looking back at Ancel. “Come with me. Now.” 

“No, wait.” Ancel shook his head, holding onto Laurent’s hand to keep him from following Damen, which he very clearly wanted to do. “Please don’t tell Eric. He doesn’t want to see me anymore. I just need a new place to stay.” 

Damen raised an eyebrow. “I doubt he doesn’t want to see you, kid. He called me earlier and told me about what happened. He’s been looking for you all day. So have I.” 

Laurent smiled gleefully. “ _ Really?  _ Well, that’s wonderful news, isn’t it, Ancel?” 

Ancel couldn’t respond. He was frozen solid, unable to process Damen’s words. 

“And who might you be?” Damen asked Laurent. 

“Laurent.” The golden angel stuck out his hand, as if he expected Damen to kiss it. “Charmed.” 

To Laurent and Ancel’s surprise, Damen took the hand that was offered to him and did kiss it, pressing his lips to it lightly as he brushed the pale fingers. He smiled. Laurent stiffened next to Ancel, taken off guard. 

“Nice to meet you, Laurent.” The name rolled off Damen’s tongue like silk. “Are you a friend of Ancel’s?”

“Yes.” Laurent tried to compose himself, taking his hand back and straightening his posture. 

“Hm. Eric didn’t tell me about you.” His gaze flickered to Ancel again. “He said you were a runaway, or something along those lines. Thought you didn’t have any family or friends.”

“I’m all he has now,” Laurent said quickly to save Ancel the explanation. “I’m not from this area, but I came to visit to check on Ancel. I was worried about him, you see, but our . . . family wouldn’t let me see him after they threw him out. I had to sneak away.” 

“Is that so.” Damen did not frame it as a question, and he looked very skeptical. “Well, why don’t the both of you come with me back to my place, and we’ll get this all sorted out? I’ll call Eric. He’s worried about you, Ancel.”

“Is he?” Ancel’s voice was very quiet. He couldn’t believe it. Not from the way Eric had looked this morning. Had it only been this morning?

Damen’s face softened. “Yes, he is.”

Ancel began to cry again, unable to stop himself. Something overflowed in his heart and a dam broke, fresh tears falling from his eyes.

“Oh, no.” Laurent held him close, patting his head. “Perhaps we will come back to your place with you. It’s been a long day for Ancel. He’s tired.” He smiled at Damen. 

Damen nodded and began walking back the way he had come. Laurent tugged Ancel along, and they followed him. They didn’t walk very far, only a few blocks, before they turned a corner and suddenly found themselves on a street lined with small white-flowered trees and brownstone apartments. The trees seemed out of place in the city, and Laurent marveled at the tiny white petals that fluttered down and landed in his hair. They reminded him faintly of similar trees they had in the Kingdom. 

Damen lead them to the fifth house in the row, unlocking his door with a set of keys. There was a short set of stone stairs leading to a stoop, potted plants and flowers on either side. Damen entered his apartment and held the door open for Laurent and Ancel, closing it behind them. His home was warm and smelled pleasant, like he had been baking. The scent of sweet spices filled the air. 

“Sit,” Damen instructed, pointing them to his living room that branched off the short front hallway. Laurent led Ancel to a couch, and Damen went into the kitchen, presumably to make a phone call. 

“It’ll be alright,” Laurent said into Ancel’s hair. “Maybe your Eric really does believe you, hm? Damen made it sound like he truly cares for you in the way you’d hoped.”

It was too good to be true. Ancel shook his head, drying his tears against Laurent’s shirt. “He didn’t . . . he looked right through me, after I told him. Like I wasn’t even there. He doesn’t believe me.”

“Are you so sure?” Laurent asked, keeping his voice low. “What happened after you told him the truth?”

“He went into his room and shut the door,” Ancel said. “He shut me out. I knew I wasn’t wanted anymore. That it would be best if I left, so we could both just . . . forget about it.”

“So you just left,” Laurent said, sighing. “You foolish child. You did not think he simply needed space? Time to process? That it would be fine if you had just waited?”

“No. Stop this.” Ancel would not hear it. He tried to rise from the couch, but Laurent would not let him. “I have to find another place to stay. Berenger doesn’t want to see me anymore. It will be best for both of us to erase the time we spent together. I must move on, and he will as well.” The words tore him in two, but he needed to face the truth. He had certainly learned the lesson the Lord meant to impart on him when Ancel was cast out. He knew better than to indulge his silly dreams now. 

“You’re being rash, Ancel,” Laurent said, staying firmly put on the couch. He made himself comfortable, lounging against the cushions as if he intended to stay for a while. “Why don’t you wait for your man to arrive and ask him how he really feels?”

“Because he doesn’t love me!” Ancel couldn’t help his voice from rising, and in the kitchen, he heard Damen’s voice go quiet. Laurent gave him a sad, pitying look. 

Ancel shook his head, angrily wiping tears from his face. “He doesn’t love me. I told him I loved him and he didn’t say it back.”

“Darling, he was in shock,” Laurent said softly. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Ancel said stubbornly. “And besides. I lied to him.” His shoulders slumped, wings drooping. “I lied to him, and I don’t deserve him.” He felt very, very small then.  

“Ah.” Laurent’s face softened in understanding. “So that’s it.” 

When Ancel fell to his knees, crying again, Laurent was there to catch him. 

Ancel wished it were a different pair of arms encircling him.

 

*

 

Ancel must have fallen asleep, because he roused at a forceful pounding on the door. He blinked, rubbing his eyes as he sat up on the couch. It took him a moment to recognize where he was, for he’d expected to be in Berenger’s apartment still, waking up to familiar surroundings. Instead, he registered a different apartment, with different furnishings, and remembered what had transpired before he fell asleep. He was in Damen’s home. Laurent was here. 

And someone was very angrily demanding to be let in. 

Laurent moved slightly in front of Ancel, as if to shield him, while Damen went to the door, mouth pursed into a tight line. 

“What’s going on?” Ancel asked, still half-muddled with sleep. 

Laurent looked back at him apologetically. “Damen called your man.”

Ancel’s eyes widened a moment before Eric burst into the room, chest heaving, eyes frenzied. 

Everyone stopped. Laurent inched away from Ancel, and Damen stood behind Eric, watching the two of them warily. Eric stared at Ancel for a moment, and Ancel trembled, fear and longing and confusion tearing his heart asunder. 

And then Eric sank to his knees and gathered Ancel to his chest. 

“Thank fucking Christ,” he whispered, his voice shaking as he crushed Ancel to him. “Jesus, Ancel, I was so worried about you.”

Ancel was too stunned to respond, even as his heart sang with Eric’s touch again. He couldn’t breathe. Eric’s hands were in his hair, holding him tight. Over Eric’s shoulder, Ancel saw Damen gesture to Laurent, and the two of them moved quietly out of the living room, into the kitchen. 

When Eric pulled back, his face was severe, and Ancel could see him trying to hide the bald relief in his eyes. 

“Why?” he asked, voice quiet. “Why did you leave?”

“I . . . .” Ancel shook his head, feeling fresh tears gather at the corners of his eyes. “You didn’t want to see me. You . . . .” He shrank back into the couch, away from Eric’s touch. It was just confusing him; he couldn’t think, couldn’t form coherent thoughts. 

“Ancel,” Eric said, exasperated. “It was a lot to process at once. I didn’t want you to leave, you stupid, naive angel. I just needed space.” When Ancel didn’t respond, Eric leaned forward again, trapping him against the couch. He wouldn’t let Ancel escape from him, and Ancel closed his eyes. Their noses brushed together. “When I came back out of my room and saw that you’d gone, I almost called the police. I went crazy. I went to the bar, to see if you’d gone there. Demanded to know if anyone there had seen you. I went all over town, every single place I’d taken you, but I couldn’t find you. And I thought something terrible had happened to you, and all I could think was that it was my fault.” Eric’s breath was a bit ragged now, his grip on Ancel tightening. “I was so worried, Ancel. I had no idea what could’ve happened to you, and I couldn’t take it. I thought I might never see you again.”

Ancel had never seen this much emotion from Eric, and it made him come unhinged. He sobbed, throwing his arms around Eric’s neck. 

“No,” he cried. “No, my love, I’m here. I’m right here.”

“I thought you might have . . . .” Eric’s arms tightened around him, and suddenly Ancel noticed something, a feeling that hadn’t been there before. He gasped. His spine straightened. Eric had called him  _ angel.  _ “I thought you might’ve flown away.”

Ancel couldn’t get the words out to ask what that meant. He could only pull back and stare at the man he loved, daring to hope, to believe. 

Eric stroked his wings, fingers soft as they lit upon Ancel’s white feathers. 

“I believe you,” he whispered. “And I love you. I love you. Now please, Ancel.” And he leaned forward to kiss his angel. “Come home.”

 

*

 

_ Three months later _

 

“Ancel, we can’t. We’ll be late for dinner.”

“Please?” Ancel fluttered his lashes, arching on the bed. He was naked, already covered in Eric’s seed, but he wasn’t quite done yet. He stretched out his wings, and he saw the way Eric’s eyes followed the movement. A thrill went down his spine. He still wasn’t used to the feeling of knowing that Eric could see his wings. 

They had become a point of fixation for Eric whenever they had sex now; he liked to kiss up Ancel’s spine in between the delicate bones, and he liked to scratch in between them because of a certain noise Ancel made whenever he did it. When they made love, he liked to have Ancel ride him the most, so that Ancel could spread his wings freely. He had full movement of them when he was sitting on Eric’s lap, and Ancel preferred that most days. But Eric also liked to take him from behind, because then he had a wonderful view of Ancel’s wings when he stretched them out. Ancel liked being face-to-face when they had sex, but some days, when he was being particularly bratty (which he liked to be more often than not), Eric pushed him to his knees and fucked him with Ancel’s face pressed into the mattress and his ass in the air. Ancel couldn’t say he’d ever complained about it. 

But he knew that Eric loved being face-to-face too, if only so he could come on Ancel’s cheeks and nose, his chin and mouth. Ancel had picked it up fairly quickly that Eric had two favorite places to spend himself, if he wasn’t coming inside Ancel - his face or his belly. And when he came inside him, he did it now without reservations, and he didn’t have to think about using protection. Once he’d believed Ancel’s story and Ancel had begun to explain more about angels to him - namely, that Ancel wasn’t susceptible to human diseases and maladies - Eric never hesitated to fill him with come when he asked. And Ancel did ask quite a lot. 

The last three months had been like living inside a dream, and Ancel thought daily that it would all be taken away from him without warning. He and Eric had made a life together, comfortable and happy. Ancel thought one day the Lord would realize that his punishment had turned into a blessing, and he would tear it away from Ancel out of cruel spite. But Laurent always reassured him that would never happen. 

It was both surprising and not that Laurent hadn’t yet gone back to the Kingdom. He had decided to stay - with Damen, no less. Laurent gave Ancel weekly updates; he visited the Kingdom for a day or two every week, to keep up with goings-on and gossip. Things were changing, he said. Auguste was going to take the Lord’s place. Laurent would be allowed to stay in the human world for as long as he wished. 

Damen and Laurent were Ancel and Eric’s closest friends. They met up for weekly dinners at a fancy restaurant uptown, catching up and spending the time in pleasant company. Eric was right - they were going to be late for their regularly scheduled dinner if they didn’t get out of bed. 

Eric glanced at the clock, looking torn. “We’re really gonna be late, love.”

“Oh, I’m sure Laurent is keeping Damen up, too,” Ancel said, grinning. He ran a hand through the mess on his belly, pushing the bedsheets down to expose his cock. Eric stared at him with the gaze of a starving man. But there was something else in his eyes, too - something like pride, pride and smugness and possessiveness. Ancel belonged to him. He belonged to Ancel. They were each other’s, now, and nothing would change it. 

“Let’s make it quick,” he said, rolling over to pin Ancel to the bed. Ancel laughed as Eric kissed him, and his laugh turned into a gasp when Eric slid down his body, taking his cock in his mouth. 

 

*

 

“I really can’t believe it,” Laurent said, showing off the glittering ring on his finger. Ancel was speechless. “I never expected it to happen so soon.”

Damen was beaming, his arm around Laurent’s shoulders where they sat across from Ancel and Eric in the booth. When they’d arrived at the restaurant - ten minutes after Ancel and Eric, which had made Ancel give his lover a smug grin - they’d both had an air of excitement hanging over them, and Laurent had strategically hidden his left hand from view until they were seated in their regular booth and the waitress had gone away with a request for their finest bottle of wine. Then, Laurent and Damen had looked at each other, Damen kissed Laurent’s temple and said, “Go ahead, sweetheart,” and Laurent had shown off his hand, the diamond engagement ring nearly blinding Ancel as it caught the light.

Eric’s eyes had widened, shocked, but he’d shaken Damen’s hand. “Congratulations. I’m happy for you both.” Ancel could tell that he meant it by the genuine smile he let show on his face. 

Ancel was happy for Laurent, truly. He never expected this was where Laurent would end up, and so quickly, but he was happy for his friend. And he gave himself a bit of credit for it. He’d had a hand in their meeting, anyway. 

But as he looked at the ring, beautiful and perfect on Laurent’s finger, he felt the sharp sting of envy. Eric had lavished him with plenty of expensive gifts and sparkly things over the last three months - more often than not, Ancel didn’t even have to ask for them - but Ancel had never thought about this. He was quite familiar with the human custom of marriage. He’d popped in on his fair share of weddings, and he’d always loved the extravagant details that went into them. As he fancied the idea of love and soulmates, so he also fancied the idea of marriage and lifelong commitment to one another, and he knew that a lifelong commitment was what he and Eric had made to each other, in no uncertain terms. But in the last three months, Ancel had never considered this. It hadn’t occurred to him to want it; he was lucky enough that Eric loved him back, that he wanted him. They had everything together already. But the sight of the ring on Laurent’s finger made Ancel realize that he wanted this, too. 

He smiled at Laurent, taking his hand to hold the ring up closer to his face. “It’s beautiful.” 

“Really,” Eric said, raising an eyebrow at Damen. “How much did you spend on that thing?”

“As much as I had to,” Damen said, which made Laurent smile innocently. 

“I’d like a summer wedding, I think,” Laurent mused, admiring his new gem. “In a palace.” 

Eric laughed, and Damen just smiled, turning Laurent’s face to his to kiss him softly on the lips, holding his chin. “Anything you want.”

Ancel sat back in the booth and picked at the bread on his plate. He tried very hard not to look at Eric, but Eric reached under the table and squeezed Ancel’s hand. Ancel had to look at him. Eric was smiling. Ancel couldn’t help but smile back. 

Yes, he was happy for Laurent. And as he kissed Eric, Ancel decided that he would have this, too, someday. It didn’t have to be immediately. They had the rest of their lives for it. The rest of their mortal lives, which they would spend together. Ancel wasn’t going to waste a single moment of the time he’d been given. 

_ Let this be a lesson to you, Ancel. Heed it well.  _

He would. 

As Eric pulled his angel closer, he brought a hand down to his pocket, where he felt the small box he’d put there earlier when Ancel was getting dressed. And he smiled against Ancel’s lips. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> still working on a bunch of other fics! this is one of the many in my library and i'm so relieved i finally finished it so now i can spend more time on some of my other WIPS to come!


End file.
